


A Chain of Flowers

by Cardinal_Daughter



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, F/M, Family Secrets, Iron Bull/Dorian pavus - Freeform, Loss of Faith, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 57
Words: 263,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4631952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Daughter/pseuds/Cardinal_Daughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“They cling to each other, as sisters should. They are beautiful, bold, stronger together than apart. They will move the very mountains; the world will tremble before them. Soon my link in their chain will fall, scatter to the earth where I may find rest. But more will come to take my place, and they shall entwine themselves to others and make a chain- like the chain of flowers wrapped in their hair- but stronger than any iron forged by man.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>When an explosion at the Conclave alters the course of the world, Amarantha Lavellan must make the choice to stand with her new-found companions as Inquisitor, or sit idly by and watch the world fall to ruin. Her decisions will lead to new allies and enemies, love, tragedy, and revelations that will form a rift between sisters and forever alter Amarantha’s devotion to the Elven gods of old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Imprisoned

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Updates will be weekly. 
> 
> The dialogue in the first couple chapters will be very similar to the dialogue of the game. This was necessary to set up the events of the story (which most of us know well) but I wanted any outsiders who may not be aware of the story to be able to read this as well. 
> 
> Crucial scenes throughout will also rely somewhat heavily on in-game dialogue, but I am trying to not make it so that I'm just retelling exact same thing. (Trust me, I'm not! There will be some...major differences to come.) 
> 
> Any Elven that is spoken was referenced from the Elven page on the Dragon Age Inquisition Wiki. 
> 
> I have no beta for this story, so I sincerely apologize for any mistakes. I try to catch them all, but I am only human. :-/
> 
> I do not own Dragon Age: Inquisition or any of its characters.

Chapter One: Imprisoned

 

The moment consciousness drifted in and made her aware of her surroundings, Amarantha Lavellen knew she was in great danger. Her every sense took in her surroundings as she blinked her grey-blue eyes. It was dark, that much was certain. A few torches lined the walls around her, but even with her training, it was still difficult to see around her. The air was dank and stale too, and the smell that lingered around her was foul. The chill that ran under her coat left her body tense, and her position left muscles tight and sore.

It was easy to determine that she was in some sort of dungeon, but the more pressing question was _why?_

Another brief survey, this one internal, revealed to the hunter that she was bound in chains, and that the cuffs were tight enough to restrict blood flow. It ached, as did her head, and she was uncertain if the slight wet that ran down the back of her head was blood or water from the dripping from the rafters that loomed above her. From the ache that throbbed in that very spot, she assumed it was the former. She shifted slightly, not much as to alarm anyone who might be watching, and tried to make herself comfortable. She flexed her shoulders back, frowning as she realized her weapons were no longer strapped to her. That left her with little defense should she be able to make an escape, but she knew that such a feat was not possible while she had no idea where she was or how many people might be waiting to stop her.

She felt a strange pain in her hand, and for a moment assumed it was due to the tightness of her restraints. Then she noticed a shimmer of strange green, which brought back a memory of being surrounded by the same color, and a burst of - _something_ shot out of her hand like lightning during a harsh summer storm. She cried out in fear, having never experienced something so terrifying and painful before, and doubled over as the burst of what she could only assume was magic subsided and left a sharp burning sensation in her palm.

_What have they done to me?_ She worried silently as she closed her fingers over her palm, her nails digging into the skin as she resisted a whimper as the pain from the strange jagged cut on her hand spouted out more green wisps.

Somewhere beyond the room, she heard the sharp thud of boots marching in a quick taboo toward her. She bit her lip, fear gripping her for a moment before she shoved it down and away. _Fen'Harel take my fear,_ she hissed to herself, _And may he take whoever has taken me captive._

The door burst open and two women entered the room, a stern looking woman with short spiky hair and a fair woman whose head was covered in a cowl. She looked serious but calm, whereas the other woman stalked about with a barely concealed rage. Amarantha glanced to the ground, deciding to be unassuming as these women, both clearly human, might mistake her for a poor savage girl, which she might be able to use to her advantage in time.

The other woman, the fearsome whirlwind of fury began to speak, circling her as she did so, and it brought to mind for Amarantha a wolf circling its prey. The woman was intimidating to be sure, but she let her anger dance before her freely, wild and savage like a beast. 

"-Everyone who attended is dead," the woman finished her speech, then stopped in front of Amarantha, eyes narrowed and finger pointing accusingly, "Except for you."

Amarantha sat still, looking straight ahead and refusing to meet the woman's gaze. She said nothing, choosing not to reveal that she had no idea what had happened at the Conclave. It was horrifying, to think that so many people were dead, save herself and apparently a few others, but she could not remember what happened. There were brief glimpses of running, of feeling fear, but there was nothing solid that would help defend her from this woman's accusations.

The woman seemed angered by Amarantha's lack of response, and grabbed her hand, lifting the glowing hand up in front of her face. "Explain this!" 

In her surprise at being so suddenly accosted, the mark sparked to life, startling both women and causing the angry woman to drop her hand as if it were on fire. In the surprise and cloud of pain, Amarantha gasped and cried out, "I can't!"

The woman bent down and bared her teeth, "What do you mean, 'you can't'?"

Her decision to remain silent now void, Amarantha decided to offer the truth as she knew it: "I don't know what _this_ is! Or how it got there!" She said, nodding down to her hand in disgust. Whatever it was, she wanted it gone and she wanted to go home.

The raven-haired woman was unimpressed with the answer, and bent down, clearly angry and mournful over the loss of so many people, and gripped Amarantha by the collar. "You're lying!"

The other woman, the fair one in purple, stepped forward then and grabbed her friend, pushing her back and calming her with a stoic look. "We need her, Cassandra."

Cassandra glanced from her companion to Amarantha, then sighed wearily. "I know, Leliana," she sighed, then stepped back with hands slightly lifted to indicate her compliance.

Leliana turned to face Amarantha, and crossed her arms in a manner that reminded Amarantha of her Keeper, who handled all situations with a calm disinterest. "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

Feeling more at ease with this woman, Leliana, who was more interested in finding out the truth than laying undue blame, Amarantha decided to answer. Perhaps this woman would be more reasonable, and would let her go once she realized Amarantha could be of little assistance. "I remember running," she began slowly, trying to piece back the fragments of her shattered memory, "Things were chasing me....and then a...a woman?" That didn't make sense, Amarantha thought. Why was there someone else with her in that strange place? And where was she now?

"A woman?" Leliana repeated, and Amarantha nodded, eyeing Cassandra as she paced circles around her, trying to intimidate her further. But Amarantha was no longer fearful of the woman. She was like a rabid dog, eager to hunt and rip apart prey. There was no finesse to her questioning, not like this Leliana. Amarantha ignored the loud thumping of Cassandra's heavy steps and continued. 

"She reached out to me....but, then...." The fragments of memory ended there, and Amarantha trailed off with a shrug, not sure how to finish. She couldn't finish. She was left in a void, one moment running toward the figure with the outstretched hand and the next moment she was in this cell. How long had she been unconscious? How had she survived? What happened now?

Cassandra marched around her once more, then toward Leliana. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana," Cassandra ordered softly, "I will take her to the rift."

Amarantha wasn't certain what the rift was, but she did not like the sound of it. Leliana nodded and quit the room, leaving the elf alone with the angry woman. Cassandra bent to remove the chains binding her to the floor, and unable to go on with no answers of her own, Amarantha asked, "What _did_ happen?"

Cassandra paused, and a flicker of pain shot through her features. She steeled herself then met Amarantha's eyes. "It will be easier to show you," she said warily, and it occurred to Amarantha that perhaps _no one_ knew what had really happened.

She was led outside, and the light of the sun blinded her after so long in the dark. She lifted her chained hands to block the rays, then paused as she realized that it was not the sun that shone bright upon her.

In the sky, floating menacingly above them, was a large green hole that looked as if the sky had been torn by the large claws of some great monster. It hovered above them, great and sublime, and Amarantha could only stare in horrified awe at the great mark that disturbed the once serene blue of the heavens. Clouds swirled around it like a storm, grey and unfriendly, and there was a strange tinge in the air that felt like electricity that slid over her body like phantom hands, raising chills on her flesh and causing her hair to stand on end.

"We call it 'The Breach'," Cassandra explained, "A massive rift into the world of demons that grows with each passing hour." She explained that it was the largest of many, and that it appeared when the Conclave had been destroyed.

"Unless we act," Cassandra continued, "The Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

An uneasiness settled in Amarantha's stomach, and she swallowed thickly. Her clan, unlike others that were adamant about not involving themselves in the world of men, cared about what went on beyond their borders. She'd been sent to the Conclave to observe, to report back on what decisions were made. Now she was caught in the middle of some great evil that sought to damn them all, and it had marked her with its spell. She wondered if anyone else bore the mark.

At that moment, the Breach rippled with raw energy, sending a surge through the air that shot straight to Amarantha's hand. The jagged cut flickered and the same electric pain shot out of her, sending Amarantha to her knees in pain. She curled into herself, squeezing her hand into a fist in an effort to alleviate some of the pain, to no avail. A hand touched her shoulder after a moment, and Amarantha looked up to see Cassandra kneeling beside her, the previous accusatory glare replaced with cautious empathy.

"Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads," she informed, "And it's killing you." She paused, then blinked, looking at the elf with a wisp of hope, "It may be the key to stopping all of this. But we don't have much time."

"The key to _what?_ " Amarantha asked, feeling more uncertain and in peril than she had when she'd known nothing.

"Closing the Breach," Cassandra said simply, "It could be our only chance," then she added gravely, "And yours."

"You still think I did this?" Amarantha spit, gesturing to the mark on her hand that pulsed angrily in tempo with the pulsing in the sky. The pulsing that also matched her pounding heart beat. "To _myself?_ "

Cassandra looked away for a moment, then back to her. "Not intentionally," she conceded.

"And if I'm _not_ responsible," Amarantha asked after a moment, curious as to what her fate might be. Even if she could prove her innocence, this mark meant something, and she had the suspicion that she would not be released until they figured out the connection between her mark and the mark in the sky. She felt a panic rise up in her, but held it down, submerged beneath the surface until it diminished to a small flutter.

"Someone is," Cassandra replied matter-of fact, "But you are our only suspect. But if you wish to prove your innocence, this is the only way."

Amarantha considered for a moment, thought of her options, of which she had few, and decided that regardless of this woman's belief in her innocence, this threat affected her and the Dalish just as greatly as it did Men. It would be wrong to refuse help merely because she'd been falsely accused, and Cassandra was right; proving her innocence by helping could only lead to her release, which was all she wanted at the moment.

That, and answers, but Amarantha decided to aim for one goal at a time.

"If I can help, then I will," she said. Cassandra blinked, clearly surprised by the elf's willingness. Nodding, she stood and lifted the elf to her feet, surprising Amarantha with her strength. She was not heavy, but the woman still impressed her with her ability. Her hand resting on her mid-back to guide her as much as keep her from running, Cassandra lead her through a camp, where people glared and hissed, calling out 'knife-ear' and other slurs that suggested they thought her as guilty as Cassandra had.

"They have decided your guilt," Cassandra said, almost as if trying to distract Amarantha from the slurs, "They need it."

She then began to explain the events of the Conclave, and what it meant now that it was destroyed. They reached a bridge, and Cassandra stopped to unlock her arms. "There will be a trial," she said gently, "I can promise no more."

Amarantha nodded, choosing not to argue for the moment. She'd agreed to help, and fussing would do no good. Besides, she knew her clan would treat an outsider suspected of murder or treachery with the same suspicion and formality. She could not blame the woman for her behavior, even as she did not appreciate the vitriol directed at her.

They moved together, toward the forward camp, only stopping when the Breach pulsed and sent a wave of pain through Amarantha that sent her once more to her knees.

"The pulses are coming faster now," Cassandra muttered as she helped up the elf and pushed her gently forward, silently conveying her sympathy. They ran on, Amarantha asking more about what occurred to try to fill the empty slots in her mind. Cassandra explained as best she could, but she seemed to know as little as Amarantha. It was plain that not knowing burned this warrior woman to the core, and Amarantha could sense that this woman would not stop until she knew exactly what happened. It was a determination to be admired, Amarantha thought idly, before a pulse of energy shot from the sky and struck the bridge they were crossing. The structure collapsed as if it were twigs trampled by a child's feet, and sent the guards along with Cassandra and Amarantha to the ground below. Rising shakily to her feet, Amarantha looked over to see Cassandra drawing her sword, her face twisted in disgust.

"Stay behind me!" She called as she charged at a demon that had appeared.

Knowing she couldn't stand idly by, Amarantha dug through the rocks and remains, finding two daggers within a few feet of each other. They were mismatched, but would get the job done, and Amarantha sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the Creators. A demon appeared before her, and she lunged forward, the daggers slightly dull, but they served their purpose. The demon collapsed before her and she lowered the blades, feeling at ease with the weapon's weight in her palms.

Cassandra turned and raised her sword, sticking it dangerously close to Amarantha's face. "Drop your weapon. Now!"

Amarantha chose this battle to fight. "You need to trust me," she said gently, though she pointed the blades downward as an act of submission. It was apparent that Amarantha needed to be anything but aggressive with this woman, and her compliance and gentle submission would be the surest way to gain the woman's trust before she could try to bargain for her freedom. Cassandra glared a moment longer, then sighed, her eyes rolling.

"You're right," she relented reluctantly, "I cannot protect you. And I can't expect you to be defenseless." She sheathed her sword and motioned for the elf to follow her. "Come, the others are fighting, and we need to help them."

They ran on, fighting more and more demons as they appeared, and Amarantha took a moment to appreciate the skill of the warrior. They worked well together, despite their distrust, and flanked the demons and brought them down in moments. Finally they ran up a set of stone steps and Cassandra called out that they were almost there. They joined the fray when they arrived, Amarantha slicing through demons with the dull blades, only being slowed a little by them. Finally all the demons were dead at their feet, and she felt the familiar pulsing in her hand. She glanced down, then startled when someone grabbed her wrist, lifting her hand to the air.

The pulse and pull stunned her as pain seared her being, and she cried out. A moment later it was gone, and the air around them tingled much less than it had before. She glanced over at the man who had grabbed her, freezing for a moment as she took him in. His face seemed familiar, though she couldn't recall how. She knew she'd never seen the elf before, but the kindness and mischief behind his eyes called out to her in a way that felt so familiar, like another memory just beyond her reach. Had he been at the Conclave? Was that where she recognized him? He stared back with the same sort of surprise, but collected himself with much more ease than she did.

He nodded politely to her, silent as he waited for her to collect herself, and after a moment she asked, "What did you do?" She gripped her hand tightly, which was a quite annoying habit she'd developed as she stared at the bald elf with alarm.

"I did nothing," he replied with a kind, patient smile. It relaxed her instantly, seeing another elf, even unmarked as he was. "The credit is yours."

Amarantha glanced down at her hand, unamused. "At least it's good for something, I suppose." If it could close the Breach, perhaps she could bear with it for a time, though she certainly and eagerly hoped the pain subsided soon. It was aching her now from the burst of energy that had been pulled from it, but she merely clenched her hands together and studiously ignored the pain. She called forth the memory of receiving her vallaslin, but even that hadn't been quite so painful as this. It was little consolation.

"The magic that caused the Breach also placed that mark upon your hand," the elf explained patiently, "I theorized that the mark might be able to close the rifts left open in the Breach's wake," he paused and smirked triumphantly, "And it seems I was correct."

"So it can close the Breach?" Cassandra spoke up, hopeful.

"Possibly," the elf replied before turning his attention back to Amaranta, studying her carefully. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

It was not what she'd imagined, but Amarantha supposed it was better than being dead. If she could help these people figure out what was going on she would, and then insist that she be released to return to her clan as thanks.

"Good to know," a dry voice said behind them, "And here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever."

Amarantha turned to see a dwarf standing there, picking at his gloves and looking pleased with himself. He was short, as was to be expected, with reddish hair and a smug, cheerful look that seemed to hint at his ability to make the best out of any situation. Amarantha liked him immediately.

He strutted forward, though it seemed odd to the elf that a dwarf could in fact strut, but he managed it with a confidence she'd not seen elsewhere, and introduced himself as Varric Tethras. He made another joke, which seemed to grate on Cassandra's nerves, and Amarantha deduced that the two knew each other, and like her, Cassandra wasn't terribly fond of him. It endeared him a little more to Amarantha in spite of herself.

"Are you with the Chantry?" She asked, suddenly feeling stupid when the male elf and Cassandra laughed behind her.

"Technically I'm a prisoner, just like you," Varric said soothingly, a subtle way to let her know her question was not as foolish as the others seemed to think it was. Amarantha was grateful for the small kindness, and she resisted the urge to turn and snap that she didn't know how the ways of man operated, and that it was perfectly reasonable for her to question whether someone was with the Chantry at this point, since she knew absolutely nothing about what had happened. Those around her knew more, to be sure, and she also resisted the urge to remind them that were it not for her, they wouldn't have the so-called 'key to salvation'.

She bit her tongue, calling forth patience and peace to surround her and still her tongue, and after she took a deep breath, she felt calmer, and less eager to spit a hateful reply to her captor.

"I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine," Cassandra reminded the dwarf with a scowl, "Which is clearly no longer necessary."

Varric smirked and replied, "Yet here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events."

The two bickered for a few more moments, and Amarantha glanced over to the other elf, who merely shook his head in amusement. Apparently this was nothing new. Stepping forward, staff in hand, the elf tilted his head in a slight bow, "My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions," he said politely, and Amarantha balked.

"Solas?" She asked, her tone one of surprise. Solas chuckled and nodded .

"Yes, that is the usual reaction," he replied. Amarantha felt her cheeks grow hot.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

He held up a hand to silence her. "It it all right," he said, "I find the reaction to be rather amusing."

"-You need me."

The two elves turned their attention back to Varric and Cassandra, who had been arguing back and forth with no mind to the others. Varric looked smug, his point a valid one, if Amarantha's opinion meant anything. It did not matter who helped, so long as there was help in her mind. Cassandra seemed to recognize this as well, and turned away, making a disgusted noise as her way of agreeing and ending the debate. Varric glanced over to her and winked, then let out a low laugh as he followed behind the warrior.

"You know you're happy to have my company, Seeker."

"Varric?" She said, her voice soft and gentle.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Amarantha moved to stand beside the dwarf and asked in a whisper, "Is she always like this?"

Varric nodded. "Yeah," he said lazily, "You should see her when she's in a bad mood though."

Amarantha blinked. " _That's_ not a bad mood?"

"Oh not even close."

Amarantha stood as Varric walked on, staring in disbelief at the peculiar situation in which she found herself. "What have I gotten myself into?" She asked to no one in particular.

"Tel'enfenim," Solas said softly as he walked past her, and hearing the familiar musical sound of Elven settled her and steeled her resolve. Having another elf present could only help her cause, she reasoned, especially if Cassandra already trusted him. She felt a cool breeze of relief, and followed behind the Elven mage, feeling a little better than she had since she'd woken to this strange disaster.

\--------------------------

The forward camp was little more than a scattering of soldiers and refugees fumbling about, trying to find order amidst the chaos. The camp was stationed on another stone bridge, and Amarantha felt a slight twinge of unease as she stepped onto the structure, recalling the previous bridge they'd crossed and how it had blown to pieces as if it had been made of leaves or parchment. The strongholds of man were nothing compared to this magic.

People stared at her as she walked forward, Varric and Solas on either side of her. People rushed about all around them, carrying blankets, supplies, food, and tending to the wounded. There seemed to be no order, as people called out for things they needed but their cries went unanswered as there were not enough bodies nor supplies to do what so desperately was needed. It was madness, unorganized madness. Beside her Varric seemed equally disturbed, shaking his head as he dodged people's frenzies steps who had no time to glance slightly downward to make way for a dwarf.

Beyond them, toward the opposite end of the bridge stood Leliana, the purple of her headpiece sticking out as a bright reflector amidst all the grey and red and panic. There was a man beside her, one clearly part of the Chantry as evidenced by his robes, and the two looked to be engaged in a heated discussion.

Leliana looked away from the man, her eyes glimmering in slight delight when she saw the group approach. "You made it," she said, sounding relieved. "Chancellor Roderick," she began, "I'd like you to meet-"

"I know who she is," snapped the man, who looked to be well on in years. His eyes were bloodshot and there was a darkness under them that hinted at many restless nights. He looked impatient, annoyed, and untrusting of the entire group, but his gaze was firmly pointed at Amarantha, and he looked less than pleased by her presence. Then his gaze flicked over to Cassandra and he spoke again.

"As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I order you to take this wretched elf to Val Royeaux to face execution."

Amarantha blinked, her body tensing as her mind began searching to an avenue of escape. She felt fear grip her, and a hand resting gently on her shoulder made her turn her head sharply to see Solas. The elf gaze her a knowing stare, silently conveying that he understood her wariness and quickly, so quickly that she almost missed it, rolled his eyes. She understood his meaning, that this man could not - would not be able to - follow through with his threat. Amarantha felt her body relax, the tension melting like snow. 

Behind her, Cassandra bristled at the command. "Order _me_?" She hissed, "You're a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat! I do not take orders from you!"

"You're nothing but a thug," the Chancellor retorted, "One that supposedly serves the Chantry!"

Once more the voice of reason and peace, Leliana spoke up. "We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor," she corrected with a strange mix of gentle sharpness, "As you well know."

"And she is dead!" Roderick yelled, waving his arms frantically, Leliana's calm words having no effect on his anger. "We must elect a replacement and obey her orders on the matter!"

"Shouldn't we worry about the Breach first?" Amarantha asked, hoping to draw conversation away from debating on her fate and back to focusing on figuring out what had caused the mark on her hand. She felt a little relieved that Cassandra hadn't mindlessly obeyed the Chancellor's order, but she knew she was not out of danger yet, despite Solas' quite assurance. Indeed, she feared her life was going to soon be in even more danger.

"It's your fault the Breach is even here in the first place!" Roderick snapped, and Amarantha narrowed her eyes at him, no longer afraid of this man's power, and more annoyed that he thought he had any say in the matter. She wasn't certain what his role was, but if Cassandra and Leliana refused to obey him, she felt she could spare a harsh look without her execution being moved forward to that very moment.

"Call a retreat, Seeker," the man said wearily, seeing he was outnumbered in the matter of the prisoner.

"No," Cassandra argued. "We must get to the temple."

They argued back and forth, the rest of the group silent as they debated on the best course of action. Finally, Cassandra turned back and looked at Amarantha. "What do you think?"

Amarantha blanched despite herself. "Now you're asking me what I think?"

"You have the mark," Solas reminded her gently, as if the pulsing and stinging weren't reminders enough.

"And we must keep you alive," Cassandra added.

Amarantha nodded. So long as she had the mark, she was valuable to them. That was a relief, even as it was not, and Amarantha glanced around her as they waited for her input. She thought for a moment, thinking of the options that had been laid before her and finally decided.

"Charge with the soldiers," she said softly, trying not to make it sound like an order, even as it was. "Whatever is going to happen, it's going to happen now. And if I die in the process, then you won't have to worry about an execution."

Somewhere behind her Varric laughed and Cassandra nodded before turning to give instructions to Leliana. The group fell in line behind Cassandra, and Amarantha took one last look at the Chancellor before she moved as well. Behind her, she heard the man call over his shoulder, "On your head be the consequences, Seeker."

Moving forward, Amarantha caught up to the Seeker. "Is he always so...."

"Ridiculous and self-righteous?" Cassandra finished for her, "Yes."

Unable to help herself, Amarantha laughed, and Cassandra allowed a small smile to curl the edge of her lips before she forced it down into the scowl that seemed to be the permanent expression otherwise.

They marched on, the four of them, eventually making their way to the next camp, where a group of soldiers stood ready to attack the demons that lingered in the distance. They were horrible creatures, vile and disfigured, something out of a nightmare. Amarantha had heard of demons, had even seen pictures of them thanks to her grandmother's proclivity of telling tales, but to face one in the flesh, to see it's hollow eyes and it's wicked grin and to feel the darkness roll off it and drift toward her like a smog was like nothing she'd ever known, and Amarantha quickly decided as the group charged forward that the sooner these creatures went back to the void from whence they came, the happier she'd be.

The rift, just like the Breach itself and the other rift that Solas had helped her close, loomed over their heads, blocking the sky and pulsing violently. Once the demons were dispatched, Amarantha threw up her hand experimentally, and as before, the pain seized her, but the rift began to sputter and tremble, before imploding on itself and vanishing with a deafening _bang!_

Amarantha lowered her hand, gripping it to her as she tried to fight back the tears that welled up in her eyes. Solas approached, and studied her carefully for a moment before saying, "You seem to be quite proficient at this." If there was a suspicion in his tone, Amarantha chose to ignore it, and turned to see a blond man approach them. Around his shoulders was a great mane that called to mind a lion from the legends once again told by her grandmother. He walked with a strong and proud stride, but his eyes were full of concern. He nodded to Cassandra, resting a hand on her shoulder as they greeted each other silently.

He was a handsome man, a thought which surprised Amarantha when it formed. But Solas was handsome, as was Varric. She wasn't certain why the understanding that this man was as well came with such force and why it was so surprising that she might think it, but that was something to dwell on another time. The Breach and her life were still the focus at the moment, one she hoped to defeat, the other she hoped desperately to save.

"I cannot believe the rift is sealed," the man said, his voice one of awe and relief. Cassandra gestured behind her, toward Amarantha.

"Do not congratulate me," she said, "Thank our prisoner. She has sealed two so far."

The man with the lion's mane stepped forward and held out his hand to her. "Thank you, then," he said, just as gently as he'd spoken to Cassandra. Amarantha lifted her hand to take his, and as they shook, she watched him, noticing with surprise that he held her eyes and his smile was sincere. Not once did his eyes flicker to her ears, and he seemed uncaring of the vallaslin that rested on her cheeks in a muted gold that matched the dirty blonde of her hair.

"I hope they're right about you," he said, "We lost a lot of people getting you here." Whereas the statement would have been accusatory had it come from Cassandra, Amarantha got the sense that from this man it was merely an acknowledgement, a bit of information that would help her understand the gravity of the situation. She appreciated it, and murmured a whispered prayer for those who had fallen. The man smiled, even as he did not understand her, and said, "I'm Commander Cullen, by the way."

Amarantha smiled, and realized that she had yet to give her name to any of the others who had introduced themselves. She felt a little bad about that, but it was inconsequential for the most part, as she knew Cassandra didn't really see her as anything but a prisoner, and through all the bickering and uncertainty when she'd met the others, she hadn't thought to provide them with the information.

"Amarantha," she offered her own.

Cullen smiled softly, then released her hand and turned away, pointing forward where the demons had once stood. "The way to the temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there."

Cassandra stepped forward once more. "Then we best go on. Thank you, Commander."

Nodding and taking a step back, Cullen said, "Maker watch over you." Then he turned and rushed to an injured soldier's side, assisting the man as they retreated back toward the camp.

"Let's go," Cassandra said, leading the way. The group followed, jumping off the destroyed ledge and down to the outskirts of the temple. Above them, the Breach pulsed and thudded violently, and the mark on Amarantha's hand sparked back to life, a bolt of fire shooting up her arm as it pulsed in tandem with the tear in the sky. Squeezing her hand, Amarantha studiously ignored the pain, which was now becoming so constant she'd forgotten what it felt like to not have white hot static running through her.

The others moved forward, worry and uncertainty at what else they would find in the temple quickening their steps. She lingered behind just for a moment, staring up at the jagged tear that had sent her life spiraling into an undefinable mess. Narrowing her eyes, she cursed the Breach, then lifted up a prayer to the Creators once more.

"Let this trial pass," she whispered to herself, "Let this Breach be sealed."

Taking a deep breath, she flexed her hand, hissing at the pain, and then moved after the others, a raw determination to seal the Breach and regain her freedom giving her the strength to move forward. The metal chains may have long since been removed from her, but she felt no less a prisoner, the mark her chain to whatever evil was threatening the world.


	2. Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: The group take on the Breach for the first time; the Inquisition is born.

Chapter Two: Rise

 

The Temple of Sacred Ashes was once a grand, beautiful place. It stood tall on a hill, a beacon of hope for those who needed its sanctuary. Amarantha recalled briefly seeing the pillars that stood proud, the stained glass in the windows that painted elaborate tales of heroes past in Chantry lore. She'd not known any of the tales, but they were beautiful nonetheless, visual reminders of ages gone by, of heroes and gods and humble servants serving the world for noble purpose. The ceiling had been vast, the arches that towered above all those who walked its stone and marble floors and made even the biggest person feel small. Light had poured from this place, this once stronghold of peace and serenity. Now however it sat, crumbled in on itself, defeated and prostrate on its knees as smoke replaced pillars and the green glow of the Breach replaced the light that had once shown through multicolored glass and danced a rainbow in the air of the grand room.

All around them were the charred remains of innocents, people who did not deserve such a cruel fate. Gravel and debris provided them a pathway, and the group walked carefully, slowly as to show reverence to the dead. Before them was a ledge that once was a balcony that overlooked the beautiful forest below but now overlooked the core of the explosion where the Breach hovered. Only death and destruction remained in this place and the sorrow that permeated the air touched Amarantha's heart, causing her eyes to well up once more. It wasn't the pain of the mark but the pain of so much devastation and loss that drove the tears down her cheeks, but she brushed them away quickly knowing that tears would not bring back the dead. The only way of avenging them was to seal the Breach in the sky. She would do this, for the dead as much for herself. Her own life might be at risk, but these people had already suffered an undeserved fate. It was the least she could do to see that their death was not in vain. 

More footsteps echoed behind them, and Leliana appeared with a small troop, thanking the Maker as she rushed toward them to explain what had happened since they parted. It was quickly agreed that Amarantha should attempt to close the Breach, and she nodded. "I'll do what I can," she said.

It was all anyone could ask of her and they all knew it. Cassandra instructed her to lead the way down, and so they moved to the east, trying to find a path to reach the Breach to begin the process of sealing it. As they ran, Amarantha heard a voice, one that sounded disturbingly familiar as it echoed around them in a soft but commanding tone. Behind her, she heard Cassandra's steps falter as she cried out, "What are we hearing?"

So it hadn't been just her. That was a comfort, small though it was. Solas spoke up, offering his wisdom.

"At a guess? The person responsible for the explosion."

The moved onward, the ruins proving a difficult path for them to navigate. As they walked closer, the voice continued, and it sent a chill of familiarity down Amarantha's back. She knew this voice. But how?

Before them, the remnants of pillars and stone began to take on a reddish hue, and some of the rocks that lay strewn about the ground glowed in the same eery red. Varric cursed behind her, and muttered, "Red Lyrium."

Having no patience for him, Cassandra huffed, "Yes, Varric. We see it."

"But what's it _doing_ here?" He asked, panic rising in his voice. He called out to Amarantha, who was several steps ahead of him, "It's evil! Don't touch it whatever you do!"

"Got it," she said, having no desire to touch the stuff. It felt foul, just as the Breach felt foul. The air was thick with something ugly, heavy, and unnerving, and it was a sensation that made Amarantha want nothing more than to run and hide until it was all over. But that was not an option. The only option was to destroy this thing, and pray nothing like it ever returned to darken the skies again.

The voice echoed around them still, and when they finally found a path that led to a small cliff from which they could jump down, it grew louder, and suddenly the Breach burst before them, an image flashing in everyone's minds like a memory clear as a cloudless sky.

_Amarantha ran toward the sound, knowing someone was in trouble, but uncertain of who would be so cruel as to attack another in a place of worship. It was despicable. The voice cried out again, pained and pleading, and Amarantha rushed to the door, throwing it open, and entering._

_Before her was a sight unlike which she'd never seen. A woman, of the Chantry by her robes, was held midair by some kind of magic that gripped her in a smoky claw. She turned her head, eyes full of pain widening."Run while you can! Warn them!"_

_The creature that was holding her, black and shapeless, but with eyes that hung like red stars in a foggy night turned to look upon her as well. "We have an intruder," it said, it's voice calm and dark. "Slay the elf."_

_Something moved toward her, similar shapeless spirits, and Amarantha reached behind her to draw her weapons._

As the vision of herself slid her blade into the first creature, a flash of light blinded her, and when Amarantha blinked again, she was standing before the Breach, Cassandra staring at her in amazement.

"You _were_ there!" She declared, "And Most Holy called out to you! What happened next? Who attacked? What did we just see? Is this even true?"

Closing her eyes, Amarantha tried to call forth the rest of the memory, but her mind was silent and still. "I don't know," she said apologetically, alarmed by what she had discovered and subsequently forgotten, "I don't remember."

Solas moved past them, studying the Breach carefully before turning back. "The Breach is closed, but not sealed. We must reopen it if we hope to seal it properly. However, this will likely attract attention from the other side."

"Demons!" Cassandra spit, "Stand ready!" She ordered everyone there, and there was a rallying cry that lifted from the temple, the first sounds of hope that echoed on the stone. The soldiers stood their ground, and Solas nodded at Amarantha firmly, indicating she could begin when ready.

Stepping forward, the elf glanced around her, taking in the surroundings she would need to take advantage of when demons began to pour through. A deep breath centered her, and she lifted her hand, palm outstretched. She wasn't certain how she knew to call forth the power, but it lifted out of her, as painful as ever, but strong and steadfast. It hit the Breach, which seemed to expand at the burst of raw power, and then it shrank before exploding, and a large creature that seemed to be made from the rocks themselves stood before them, large and imposing.

Around her, people began to attack, and she lowered her hand and drew her daggers and lunged forward, using the stealth and skill she'd been trained in all her life to move around large bumbling soldiers and slice the creature's leg. It cried out and began to swipe angrily around it, taking out a few soldiers as it did so. A few men got back up, bloodied and bruised and charged forward again.

Around them, the Breach crackled and hissed, and more demons, smaller but just as vicious appeared, and Cassandra and Solas yelled for some of the men to go after them. The smaller demons proved to be just as tough, but were at length taken down. More appeared in their place, and as Amarantha sliced away at them, careful to dodge the swinging arms of the large demon, she began to fear that they would be overcome.

But just as it seemed hopeless did the monster fall to its knees, and Amarantha leaped forward and plunged her daggers, still dull but not so much that they couldn't be effective, into the creature's back. It cried out and she held on for a moment, swinging slightly in the air before letting go and running to the Breach as the creature collapsed in a heap. Barely hearing the cries of her companions, she lifted her hand once more, and the Breach began to react as the rifts had before closing.

It pulsated and practically screeched as the power that shot forth from her turned against itself. The pain intensified, and Amarantha screamed as the feeling overwhelmed her until it was the only sensation. She thought she heard an explosion, and she felt her body become weightless for a brief moment before something hard and sharp hit her head, and while it was painful, there was a dullness to it that she appreciated. She heard voices, but the warm darkness that was cradling her was more appealing, and she embraced it, slipping away until she felt nothing but the silent joy of nothing.

\-------------------------

_The forest was calm, quiet. Serene. The moon had been high in the sky for some time, and Amarantha stood under its white glow, enjoying the peace that came with the darkness. It was the first time in three days she'd felt such peace, the squawling of her newborn sister still ringing in her ears._

_It wasn't that Amarantha didn't like her new sister; she loved her, in fact. But the babe was loud and demanding, and Amarantha found herself annoyed that the child didn't come out of the womb understanding that it was impolite to scream at all hours of the night, especially when people were trying to sleep._

_It was a selfish thought, but Amarantha was still in many ways a child herself, and she couldn't help but feel justified in her annoyance. Her grandmother had laughed at her, saying that she should be grateful for a sibling, and that they were truly blessings. "When they get older," the elder woman had added with a wink._

_But Amaryllis was only a few days old, and it would be a while before she would grow into the blessing that her grandmother promised she would be. Until then, Amarantha would enjoy the quiet of the forest, near the lake where the men of the clan had taken to catching fish._

_She sat against a tree, the one where she had carved her initial. She always did it, wherever they camped. She found the tree that called out to her, the place she would go for solitude and to think, and with one of her daggers that had been gifted to her when she'd turned thirteen, she would slice out an A on the bark. Then she would smile at the tree, tell it that she would never forget it, and then she would spend as much time there as possible, enjoying the shade and peace the old steady wood offered._

_Beyond the hill, on the west of the lake, rested a cave. Amarantha had ventured there many times in the month the clan had camped here, and for a moment she thought she might explore it while she was out. She stood, brushing off the dirt from her leggings, and walked toward the lake, dipping her feet in the water, then backing up and moving to the west, slow and silent, a shadow herself._

_As she moved, she heard a howling, one that came from the same direction as the cave. Pausing, Amarantha listened, biting her lip as the fear she'd been taught to have of wolves gripped her. But then her grandmother's words echoed in her mind, stronger and louder than that of her Keeper._

_"Do not fear the wolf," she said, "The Dread Wolf will not harm you, my girl. Show him respect, it's all he really wants, I think."_

_It was heresy to speak so of the Dread Wolf, or so the others would have her believe. But Grandmother Albizia was adamant in her own belief, though she had only shared it with her granddaughter. Deciding to trust the older woman, Amarantha bowed her head and spoke softly into the night._

_"I mean no harm or disrespect. I merely seek solitude."_

_The wolf howled again, this time closer and behind her. Turning sharply on her heel, Amarantha looked around, skin crawling with nervousness. She turned back once more, jumping in surprise to see a wolf standing not three feet in front of her, it's fur white as the first snow of winter. It looked at her curiously, head tilted slightly as it observed her. She stood still, waiting to see its response._

_The wolf stepped forward, and pressed its nose against her palm, nuzzling it gently. Amarantha giggled, then lowered herself to her knees to pet the wolf on the head. Her laugh grew when the wolf rubbed its nose on her cheek and she moved her hand to scratch under its chin._

_"Grandmother was right," she whispered, "Wolves are nice."_

_"We are," the wolf replied. Amarantha recoiled, falling onto her backside as she moved away from the wolf. It followed her retreat, the eyes morphing into ones that were disturbingly human. Snapping her eyes shut, Amarantha prayed, waiting for the wolf to grab her, afraid of what was to come._

Amarantha's eyes opened wide, and for a moment she felt a great sense of panic. She was not in the woods at night, face to face with a strange wolf. Turning her head, she took in her surroundings, not recognizing the wooden cottage or the items within. She blinked, trying to recall what happened, but her thoughts were disturbed by the sound of a gasp and a bottle shattering as it hit the ground. Sitting up slowly, which helped her feel the dull ache in the back of her head, Amarantha looked upon a small elf girl, who was staring at her with wide, awe-struck eyes.

Falling to her knees, the elf girl apologized for disturbing her.

"It's all right," Amarantha said gently, trying to relax the girl. "But if you could tell me what happened?"

The girl nodded, then sat back, resting on her haunches. "You're in Haven, my Lady," she said, "They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days!"

"Three days," Amarantha murmured. She'd been out for three days.

She looked back at the girl, and asked for more information, but the poor child didn't know anything else beyond, "Lady Cassandra will want to see you right away! She said, 'at once!'"

Fleeing then in a state of panic, the girl left the shattered bottle in her wake. Amarantha rolled her eyes. She didn't know what was so unnerving about herself, but then she glanced down and caught sight of the mark on her hand. That might be enough to unnerve anyone, though it wasn't a threat to others so much as it was the Breach. It took a moment, but then it dawned on Amarantha that something was off about the mark. She puzzled over it for a moment until she realized: it didn't hurt.

Or at least, not as much as it once had. It pulsed with her every heartbeat, but it wasn't unbearable. She examined her hand for a long moment, the jagged mark cutting across her flesh was quite the sight, but it was with great relief that she did not feel the pain so fully. Perhaps it was dulled by the pain in her head, but even still, it was pleasant to not be in constant pain.

Deciding to find out what exactly happened, Amarantha stood on shaky legs.Moving to the door, she opened it and stepped outside, and though the elf girl had said she'd stopped the Breach from growing, she still felt her heart sink as she saw the Breach still in the sky. It was calm now, much like the mark on her hand. She stared at it, devastation filling her as the weight of her failure pulled at her core. She hadn't been able to do it. She’d failed. 

What did that mean for her now?

Her thoughts and guilt were disrupted by the sudden whispers that passed around her. Looking away from the sky, her eyes lowered to see a crowd of people huddled together several feet from her door, all watching her with intent gazes. Recalling the people who had wanted her head for the explosion just a few days ago, these people didn't seem to be angry. Instead they looked amazed. Reverent. She wasn't sure which one was more upsetting. She stepped forward, and the people parted to form a path for her. There were murmurs and whispers floating amongst them, though none of them really made sense to the elf. She walked past the group warily, then paused when she reached the end and turned to a young woman who stood watching her with great interest.

"Excuse me," Amarantha said softly, causing the woman to jump at being directly addressed. "The... Chantry?"

"Oh, it's the large building in the center, Your Worship," she said, pointing to the large structure behind them.

Brow raising at the strange name she’d just been called, Amarantha thanked the women then moved on, not missing the woman exclaim to those around her, "She spoke to me!"

The fortress called Haven was an impressive one, that was for certain. The rows of homes and buildings were simple but practical, strongly built. The Chantry was clearly the focal point of the area, as it stood several stories taller than the rest of the wooden structures that surrounded it, a beacon of hope and a stern warning to those who might oppose it. Amarantha walked up the stairs, ever aware of the whispers that followed her like a shadow, voices calling her the 'Herald' with great reverence. She reached the Chantry, feeling even more uncertain as the voices followed and people stared, and for once Amarantha wished it were due to her ears or her vallaslin. She knew how to deal with those stares and remarks. But this was new, and strange, and she didn't like not knowing why people were acting as if she were some sort of divine savior. She wasn't. She'd failed. She was no Herald. She didn’t even know what she was meant to the herald of. It was all confusing, and the ache in the back of her head throbbed with each step, making thinking of anything beyond the next step difficult. 

The inner sanctum of the Chantry was dark and for a moment it reminded Amarantha of the dungeon in which she'd first awoke to this mess. Torches lined the walls, but it did little to let in light, and the windows were not bright and open like the ones at the temple had been. Marching forward, Amarantha wondered where Cassandra might be, and then as if her question had been heard by the gods, shouting from the door at the end of the hallway grew louder, and Cassandra's distinct accent echoed in the nearly empty hall.

"I don't care!" She shouted, impassioned. Amarantha winced. 

"The elf failed!" Another voice, one belonging to Chancellor Roderick bit back.

Sighing to herself, Amarantha reached the door and pushed it open, deciding it best not to linger outside and hear what unkind things the hateful man had to say about her. The moment he saw her, Roderick pointed and bellowed, "Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capitol for execution."

Amarantha froze instantly, eyes shooting over to Cassandra for help. The woman wasn’t looking at her, instead her eyes bore into the Chancellor as her voice cut through the air, addressing the guards that stood ready on either side of the door,"Disregard that order and leave us."

The men didn't hesitate, and instantly turned and left, leaving a flabbergasted Chancellor in their wake.

"You walk a dangerous line, Seeker," he warned hatefully. Cassandra was not moved.

"The Breach isn't growing, but it is a threat. I will not ignore it."

The Chancellor fought back, laying the blame at the elf's feet once more. Amarantha opened her mouth to defend herself, but Leliana, silent as always until the situation demanded her level-headed interference, spoke up, "Someone was responsible for the explosion. Someone Most Holy did not expect. We must find out if they perished in the explosion, or it they have allies that yet live." Her expression was stern and telling, her eyes locked on the Chancellor's.

" _I_ am a suspect?"

"There are many suspects."

"But not the prisoner," Chancellor hissed, glaring at the elf as if she had personally offended him.

"Her name is Amarantha, and she is the only one who can seal the Breach," Leliana said calmly, "Suspect or not, we need her help."

"And I heard Most Holy call out to her," Cassandra added, glancing at Amarantha with a small glimmer of respect in her eyes.

"So what?” Roderick argued, “Is it all coincidence that she survived the explosion and has the mark on her hand?"

"I believe it is providence," Cassandra declared simply.

Amarantha glanced at the other woman, surprised. She wasn't sure _what_ to call what had happened to her, but Cassandra's sudden faith in her innocence moved her. "You believe I'm innocent?" She asked, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Cassandra studied her for a moment. "I believe," she said slowly, "That whatever happened, you are the one who can help us fix it. And if I am to expect you to be willing to help, I need to have faith in your innocence."

"Thank you," Amarantha said softly as relief flooded her. If Cassandra- who had been so quick to judge her before- trusted her, then perhaps others might grow to do the same. She _was_ innocent, or at least she believed she was. But it was difficult not knowing for certain so she relished the other woman’s confidence in her. It was no small thing for Cassandra to give, not when there was so much chaos and doubt. .

Before her, Chancellor Roderick continued to protest, claiming that the Chantry would never support this madness. Cassandra turned away for a moment, then returned to the table, a large tome in her hand. It was worn, clearly decades old, and she dropped it onto the table unceremoniously. "You know what this is," she said to Roderick, "A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I hereby declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the Breach, and we will do it with or without your help."

Realizing he had no chance of a victory, Roderick glared at them all, let out a curse and stormed out of the room, the door booming behind him as he slammed it shut. Cassandra's heaved a sigh of relief, and her shoulders slumped as she leaned against the table.

"We are not ready," Leliana said to her friend cautiously. "We have no numbers, no leader. No Chantry support."

"But we have no choice," Cassandra countered quietly. "We have to do something."

Amarantha looked to the two women, both of whom bore the countenance of people who had too much pressure on them. This was no small task they were taking on, of that Amarantha was certain, and the weight of their choices was already sitting heavy on their shoulders. They wanted to help. They wanted to do something good, and it was clear that their intentions were nothing but pure. Amarantha found herself inspired by their determination. Too long had she been apart from the world, and now she had a chance to participate. She was no longer a suspect, though she wasn't sure how she felt about being referred to as the divine providence of a god in whom she did not believe, but that was secondary to the fact that the Breach prevailed and was still a threat to all. Even the elves who wanted no part in the world dominated by humans were at risk, and if she did not stand for them, who would? 

Stepping forward, she cleared her throat and addressed the two, "I'd like to help you."

Cassandra's eyes snapped up to her, grateful, surprised. "You would?"

"Yes."

It was a simple answer, a simple decision. A few days ago, she had been a prisoner. Now she was bound with these women in a declaration to help them stop whatever madness had caused the sky to tear apart. She felt a strange anxiousness over it all, not knowing what the future held, but she knew she could not turn her back now. Not when they'd trusted her. She would trust them, and together they would use this Inquisition to stop the forces that sought to destroy the good in the world.

Cassandra held out her hand, and Amarantha took it, and the two women shared an understanding look.

“Then so rises the Inquisition," Cassandra said, full of purpose. Leliana joined them, and laid her hand atop their joined ones.

"May we succeed."

"We will," Cassandra insisted. Amarantha couldn't help but believe her.

"Yes," she agreed. "We will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! It looks like updates will be on Satruday's, so look for chapter 3 on Sept. 5. 
> 
> I do not own Dragon Age or any of its characters. This is merely for fun.


	3. Commodities Greatly Needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amarantha looks for answers; the Inquisition makes its presence known.

Chapter Three: Commodities Greatly Needed

 

Having come from a relatively small clan, the sight of so many people was a strange thing for Amarantha. She was used to a small, tight-knit group of people, not a large sea of unfamiliar faces that blended into one another until she could not remember whether she'd already met the person with whom she was currently speaking. As it was, she was now stuck in a place where there were only a handful of people with whom she was relatively well-acquainted, but the rest of the fortress seemed to know her, and about her, and it was with great patience and reservation that Amarantha listened as people carried on conversations about her triumph at the temple, even as she saw it as a failure.

But the people would not be swayed, and Cassandra had hinted on more than one occasion that to try and sway them would be fruitless. The people saw her as a hero, as a figurehead for this Andraste. It was uncomfortable, to have people bow their heads in respect to her, to refer to her with titles instead of her name. She was but a mere elf, a Dalish girl from the wild, and had no influence there among her people. But here she was revered, respected. It was so uncomfortable in fact, that a week after the declaration of the Inquisition, Amarantha made her way to the makeshift office in which Leliana had taken residence to ask about Andraste.

"The people adore her," Leliana explained as she stroked the folded wings of a raven that cooed at the affection. It brought to mind the wolf from Amarantha's dream, one of which she'd had numerous times over the years, and how the wolf was usually a gentle soul. It never attacked her, but she always awoke with the feeling that had she lingered in her dream for too long, it might change its mind and decide her presence was no longer welcome.

But the raven was a docile creature, at least under Leliana's gentle caress, and she smiled at the bird before turning her attention back to the elf.

"It is her teachings on which the Chantry was founded," Leliana explained further, telling Amarantha that Andraste was the bride of the Maker, and that she ultimately died.

It was a beautiful, tragic tale, and Amarantha found herself appreciating it greatly, just as she valued the stories of her own gods. She believed in them, whereas she viewed Andraste as a pretty tale, but she couldn't help find herself appreciating the woman from whose teachings the dominate religion of Thedas followed. A small part of her- the part that had been groomed and cultivated by her practically heretical grandmother who thought the Dread Wolf was more a rambunctious pup rather than a feared manipulator- wanted to believe. But her Dalish upbringing was stronger than the wild teachings her grandmother had given her and her sister when their mother had not been paying attention, and so she pushed down that small desire, feeling that to believe in someone else might be a betrayal to her people.

"Why do people think I'm her Herald?" She asked instead, trying to distract herself from such introspective thoughts. Now was not the time for those. Instead she wondered why out of all the gods that might have saved her, that might have made her their messenger, why was it not a god she herself worshiped? She did feel like a heretic in that regard, and there were plenty who shared that opinion, though for a different reason. She had never claimed to be any such grand thing like a Herald or Messenger. She had never claimed to be anything but innocent.

"People saw someone else with you in the Fade," Leliana explained once more, "And for some, they believe it was Andraste. And that gives them hope, which is a commodity greatly needed now."

Amarantha understood what Leliana wasn't saying aloud. The woman had a way of expressing her feelings with no words, and her ability to make herself understood in such a silent manner was a fearsome talent. "You mean I shouldn't deny it because false hope is better than no hope at all."

A smile flashed across Leliana's lips, and she let the bird hop off her arm and onto a stand where it began to preen and groom itself. "It is not false, if it brings genuine comfort," she corrected softly, "Hope is not a fact, and so people should take what hope they can in whatever form they can." She gave Amarantha an amused look, "Even if that source of hope is in doubt of herself."

Bowing her head and lacing her fingers together Amarantha considered this. "A small part of me wants to believe it was one of my gods," she admitted, "But then, when it comes down to it, I suppose I don't really care who may or may not have been with me. What matters is I was saved."

"Does thinking it was an elven god bring you comfort?"

Amarantha shrugged. "I suppose. I know it should."

"Then let that comfort you, and use your own peace to help others find theirs."

Amarantha nodded obediently, "I suppose that's one way to help, considering I failed to seal the Breach."

Leliana laid a hand on top of Amarantha's fiddling ones. "We will figure it out," she comforted her, "We have to."

 

\----------------

 

The forces and refugees and workers piled into Haven in droves, and the endless sea of faces soon grew into an expanse that rivaled any ocean. It left Amarantha dizzy trying to remember names and faces, but by the second week she found herself on friendly terms with several people, including the blacksmith, requisitions officer, and potions master.

Others had joined as well. Cullen, the commander she'd met in the mountains arrived not long after she awoke, though he'd been so busy organizing troops and making sure everyone was armed, that she had yet to speak to him outside the few brief council meetings Cassandra had set up.

Solas proved useful, offering insight no other had in regards to the Fade. He explored it deeply, and had information that was both unique and valuable to the Inquisition's goals. Amarantha found his council somewhat overwhelming at times, but she enjoyed conversation with a fellow elf, even though he had made his opinion on the Dalish abundantly clear. They did not agree on many things, the Dalish and its history especially, but Solas appreciated her willingness to listen and be open to his thoughts, and Amarantha valued his wisdom and fresh perspective. She liked to argue with him, she discovered quickly, and he confessed after she fought with him over the validity of spirits being 'people' that her banter with him was a pleasant distraction from everything else that was going on. She thought with an amused grin that her Grandmother would have liked Solas.

Another individual with whom Amarantha found herself spending a great deal of time was Ambassador Josephine Montilyet. The savvy young woman was a breath of fresh air with an even sharper mind. She remembered the smallest details, and Amarantha found herself almost constantly in the Antivan's office asking questions and seeking advice. Being Dalish, she was not accustomed to the ways of men, especially noble ones who were beginning to take notice of the Inquisition, and most notably, its Herald.

Thankfully Josephine was a fountain of knowledge. Amarantha could read and write, something other clans did not bother themselves with, so at least she had that advantage. It had been at the insistence of her grandmother that she and her sister learn, and Amarantha had never been more grateful to have learned the skills. But for the rest, Josephine was her lifeline, her source, and her strength.

"Just stick with me, Herald, and you will impress even the most difficult nobles."

"Don't be surprised if you find yourself with a second shadow, then," Amarantha laughed, "Everything is so different from what I know."

"That said," Josephine said, a dark edge creeping into her voice, "Has anyone said anything.....untoward to you?"

"You mean like calling me 'knife-ear'?" She asked, slightly amused at the way Josephine brushed around the delicate subject.

"Yes," Josephine stiffened, "Like that."

"There are whispers, but nothing I haven't heard before."

"Even still," Josephine said, lowering her pen and staring pointedly at the Herald, "We cannot have our own treating you with disrespect and then expecting others to respect you. We must have unity."

Amarantha agreed. She was bothered by the name to be sure, but people were fools, and she was guilty of her own harsh judgements herself. She knew better than to judge humans based on only what she had heard, but that understanding was not universally shared. It upset her to know that people saw only her ears or her vallaslin, but she'd decided long ago that those people meant nothing to her, and while their words stung, she would not let them define her. She was proud to be Dalish, and no one would take that from her.

"Unity is definitely needed," Amarantha agreed.

"Indeed," Said Josephine, before changing the subject. "What do you think of the Inquisition so far?"

Amarantha took a moment to think. Over the two weeks since the Inquisition had been declared, it had been a whirlwind of activity. She was not used to the way these people worked, but her own ethic was strong, and so she stayed up late and rose early to help in any way she could. She met with refugees, met with workers, and listened when those with more knowledge than her spoke. Her meetings with the council were always interesting, and it was with a great deal of relief to know that Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen were there to help keep track of all that needed to be done. There was much to do, and resources were thin, but everyone seemed to have connections to supplies or to people with supplies, and it impressed Amarantha to see what could be accomplished when people shared a common goal. It was not unlike her clan, when they banded together for a celebration or to protect themselves from outsiders. But there was nothing like this, no grand, world altering decisions being made. She was grateful for those who stood with her around the war table. She hoped she provided as much as they offered to her.

"I think it's wonderful," she said, choosing her words carefully, "Truly, I do. I'm a little uncertain about a lot of things, but that's why all of you are here. I'm just the girl with the strange mark on her hand that can seal rifts."

"You are much more than that," Josephine said passionately, "You are the Herald; you are a symbol of hope - to some, not all I am sorry to say - and you can seal the rifts, as you said. That is no inconsequential thing."

"Thank you," Amarantha said, bowing her head slightly, feeling ashamed for her self-pity. She had a purpose here, little though it seemed at times, and she reminded herself firmly that she had chosen to be here.

Josephine smiled. "You are most welcome, Herald," she said, then stood from her desk and motioned for Amarantha to follow her, "Now we must go to the war room; the others will be joining us soon."

When they arrived, Cassandra, Cullen, and Leliana were already present, discussing heatedly about something, pausing only when the door opened. They immediately put the issue behind them and began to discuss other matters, debating and making suggestions until yet a handful of new problems had been addressed and solutions had been provided.

"Now," Cullen said, glancing down at the map before looking over to Cassandra, "We must discuss allies. I believe the Templars are the best resource to helping us gain enough power to seal the Breach-"

"While the mages would be just as capable," Leliana interjected.

Sighing, Cullen glanced up at the Herald. "As you can see, we cannot come to an agreement."

"Why not align with both?" She asked. Cullen shook his head, though his smile hinted at an appreciation for her suggestion.

"By going to one, we automatically alienate the other," he said, "The mage rebellion has seen to that."

"The Commander is correct, if a bit callous in his assessment of the situation," Leliana said, "But to seek out one will turn the others against us. And we cannot agree on what to do."

"It hardly matters at the moment," Josephine, ever the peace keeper, said. "Neither group will talk to us right now. They do not take us seriously."

"How do we make them do that?" Amarantha asked, feeling that being straight forward was the best approach. She was not used to the way the others argued and felt out of place, not knowing when things were truly heated and when they were merely teasing one another. She felt better asking the obvious questions in hopes of keeping the conversation as simple as possible.

"We need to make ourselves known," Cullen said, "We need to have our presence be one that cannot be ignored. Helping people, bringing in recruits, aligning with those in power."

"We can start with rifts," Cassandra said, pointing to a marker on the map. "The Hinterlands are reporting increased demonic activity, and I believe if we seal them and kill the demons, that may help bolster our cause," she paused then added, "Especially since no one else is able to take care of the problem permanently."

"Alright, then," Amarantha said, "We go to the Hinterlands. Seems like a good place to start."

"While you're there," Leliana spoke up, "Seek out Mother Giselle. She is part of the Chantry, but she has reached out to us. She believes in our cause, and just as importantly, you. With her aid, we may be able to do more."

"I will," Amarantha agreed. "When should I leave?"

"As soon as you can," Cullen said, "Assemble a team, if you wish, and then we will make the necessary preparations."

Nodding, Amarantha ended the session, and after a quick conversation with Cassandra, who agreed to join her, the elf went in search of Solas and Varric, hoping they would agree to assist her as well. She was growing to respect the warrior woman, but Cassandra was still rough around the edges, and Amarantha was not yet fully comfortable being alone with her, even as she respected and admired her.

Varric was quick to agree, telling her he'd like to use the opportunity while they were out to look into the red lyrium issue, which Amarantha supported. If it was as bad as Varric claimed, nothing good would come of it, and it would be best to get rid of the stuff as quickly as possible.

Solas was just as quick to agree to help, but not before studying her for a long moment, his eyes focused deeply on hers. "You mean a great deal to these people," he said softly, careful not to draw attention to their conversation, "The Herald of Andraste."

"I hope I can help them," she replied, feeling a bit unnerved by his intense stare.

"You seem to be filling the role appropriately."

"I mostly just don't disagree when they say I'm the Herald," she replied with a laugh, "The rest seems to take care of itself."

"Yes," he said, "Well, be that as it may, you are important. And I must confess I feel more at ease knowing an elf, Dalish though she is," he said with a teasing smirk, "Is involved in deciding the fate of the world."

"You're here too," she said, "And your council is invaluable, even though you are an apostate."

He laughed at that, and it felt good to Amarantha that she could banter like this. Solas was a strange man indeed, but he was kind in his own way, and his support meant a great deal to Amarantha. She found, despite their differences, that she looked up to him a great deal.

"A fact of which I am very much aware," he admitted as he glanced around them. "I had considered leaving, before,  but I believe I will see this through.”

Feeling alarm that he'd even considered the notion, Amarantha asked him why he'd considered leaving at all.

"I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion," he said pointedly, "You must understand my concern."

"I do," she said, though she very much couldn't understand it completely, she empathized, and wanted all those who wanted to help the Inquisition's cause to feel safe and welcome. She'd been ostracized before, and she vowed at that moment that no one who joined their ranks would suffer such cruelty. "But Cassandra trusts you, and I do as well. You are welcome here, and if anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with myself and the council."

Solas smiled, bowing his head in thanks. "I appreciate that. Yes, I will stay." He paused then, waiting a moment before adding, "But I must warn you, Herald, be wary. You will meet many people, and there will be those who are not always what they appear. Wolves in sheep's clothing, as I believe the old Orlesian saying goes."

With that he turned and walked away, leaving Amarantha in his wake, staring after him in confusion. She'd never heard the old adage before, but something about it chilled her, once more bringing to mind her dream. Shaking off the strange feeling, she went off to begin preparations for her first official trip as the Herald of Andraste.

That night, she dreamt of wolves again.

 

\----------------

 

The Hinterlands were lovely; that was the first thing Amarantha thought when she dropped her pack to the ground at the Crossroads, a large camp in which many refugees were staying for the moment. The grass stood tall around them, only recently touched by men. Beyond them the mountains stood proud and beautiful as the light of the sun reflected off their peaks. Birds sang, and she could her the chirping of crickets under her feet. She considered taking off her boots, letting her bare feet sink into the warmth of the earth, but she resisted the temptation, deciding she would revel in the glory and beauty of this place later when she was not surrounded by people and pressing issues.

Beyond the grassy plains lay danger, rifts only one contributing factor. After meeting with the scouts and some of the captains and others in charge, it was clear that the people faced death in a variety of ways: starvation, the cold, wildlife, and demons. The Hinterlands were a mess, with problems as vast as the land itself. Amarantha drew in a deep breath, and decided she would face the situation one problem at a time.

She assigned hunters to go out and hunt game. She told them she would lead them, as that had been her specialty back in her clan. She assigned others to search for some missing caches, and informed the scouts to locate all rifts, so she could find them directly and take care of them. She asked after the wounded, and instructed those that were well enough to make the journey to Haven to do so immediately and seek attention there. Those who had any training in healing was asked to stay in the Hinterlands, to provide urgent care to those who needed it.

Once those issues were settled and most everyone had an assignment, Amarantha, Varric, Solas, and Cassandra joined the hunters to gather food. She had a few children who were in the camp gather berries and plants, showing them herself which ones to pick and which to avoid. She explained what the plants did and how they could help, and sent the children with two soldiers to protect them while they frolicked and harvested.

By the end of the day, there was more than enough ram's meat to last the camp for some time, assuming they kept to the rations Cassandra had established. Feeling pleased at the feeling of accomplishment, Amarantha made her way back to the Crossroads, where one of the little girl's she'd recruited to harvest plants held up a small bouquet of wildflowers for her.

"These are for you, Herald," the girl said shyly, and Amarantha took the bouquet, then dropped to her knees to give the child a hug. When they parted, the girl said, "I like your swirls. They're pretty."

For a moment, Amarantha didn't understand what the child meant, but then the child reached out to touch her cheek and Amarantha realized she meant her vallaslin. She smiled at the child's innocent description, and proceeded to teach her the word. Tracing the shape, the child said it back, her unfamiliarity with Elven making the pronunciation a little off, but she seemed proud to have learned, and so Amarantha took one of the pretty pink buds from her bouquet and slipped it into the girls hair, called her beautiful, and led her back to her mother who bowed to the Herald and thanked her for allowing her daughter to be useful.

"Anyone can help," Amarantha said softly, looking at the girl and thinking of her little sister, "She did very well."

Turning away, she startled when a woman in Chantry robes stood before her, her weathered face wrinkled in a delighted grin. "You must be the Herald of Andraste," she said softly, and motioned for the elf to follow her. Amarantha did, gripping the bouquet in her hands, watching the older woman who had called her away.

They walked slowly and silently until they were far from the bustle of people. "Are you Mother Giselle?" The elf asked, and the older woman nodded.

"Indeed I am. I asked to meet you because I know of the Chantry's denouncement. And I am familiar with those behind it." She shook her head in motherly disappointment, "Some are grandstanding. Some are merely frightened. The explosion was devastating. We lost so many people."

"It was awful," Amarantha agreed, and she thought that perhaps when things were settled, she might request to plant some trees in their memory. It was an old Dalish custom, one she thought might be a good way to honor _any_ who had fallen to this madness.

"Indeed," Mother Giselle said, "And that loss leads to fear, which can lead to desperation. But hopefully there are those who are not without reason." She placed a comforting hand on Amarantha's shoulder, "I believe if you talk to those who remain, prove you are not some demon to be feared, you will find support."

"You really think they'll listen? To me?"

Mother Giselle smiled, and Amarantha saw a hint of mischief in the kindly woman, "You need not convince them all; just make some of them doubt. Doubt is as powerful as belief sometimes."

Doubt had caused people to want her dead; doubt had caused people to panic. But doubt also allowed her to maintain her innocence, and the Mother's words rang truer from Amarantha's experience.

"Thank you," she said, once more appreciative of the advice she had received. This Inquisition may have her as a figurehead, but there were countless others who held its foundation with strong grips.

"I do not know if you've been touched by Andraste. But I hope. And I hope I am not wrong."

"I'm not certain if I was touched by Andraste," Amarantha said softly, knowing that if anyone could understand her hesitancy, it would be this woman, "But I do believe that I can help make a difference." She lifted her hand, allowed the Mother to see the mark that tarnished her hand. The woman reached out, the first to touch it beyond herself, and clasped their hands together. "And I believe that we would be honored to have you on your side."

"You have my support, Herald," she said, squeezing the younger woman's hand. "I wish to remain here for a time to see to those who are unwell; but when I am finished I will journey to Haven."

"I look forward to your arrival, Mother Giselle."

"You may call me Mother, my dear girl, if you wish."

_Mother._ Amarantha thought for a moment, thinking back to her own mother, called Mamae as all Dalish children were taught. She missed her mother, and the rest of her family, and she realized she had yet to write to them to assure them of her safety. They would certainly be worried, and she made a mental note to send a message out the moment she returned to Haven.

But until she could see her own family again, the gentle strength of this Mother would be enough to get her through. She hadn't known her but for an hour, but Amarantha could sense nothing but genuine goodness in the older woman's heart.

"Thank you, Mother."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading. I am excited for this story to progress and I cannot wait for all you to see what is in store for our favorite characters. 
> 
> Chapter 4 will be posted September 11th, as I am going out of town on the 12th. 
> 
> Next chapter: The Inquisition grows; Amarantha has a choice to make.


	4. Of Templars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition grows; Amarantha makes a choice that leads to an interesting consequence.

Chapter Four: Of Templars

 

Clan Lavellan was a small clan, one of the smaller ones of the Dalish. Their numbers allowed them to linger in one place longer, and while they roamed as all Dalish did, they did it at their leisure, only traveling when the wanderlust began to nip at their heels with sharp teeth.

They were a curious people as well, more interested in the world beyond them than other clans, and had made many trades and brief alliances with men and surface dwarfs over the years. They were free thinkers, though still held onto the traditions and customs they had retrieved since the days when they were all but lost. Not everyone in the clan felt a desire to learn beyond their own custom, but there were enough that did, and through the practice of tolerance and patience, the clan learned to thrive together.

Amarantha's immediate family had been one such group that enjoyed learning more than the history of the Dalish. It had been Amarantha's grandmother, Albiza who had begun that trend. She had stumbled onto Clan Lavellan as a young woman, pregnant, alone, and afraid, and the clan had taken her in without question. Her opinions were a little wilder than what most Lavellans considered proper, but they assumed that was due to her being raised in another clan, one whom she prefered to keep secret, as she wanted no one from that clan to discover her. It was assumed that she wanted secrecy to protect her daughter, and that had been enough for the Keeper to declare her friend, and she had been welcomed with open arms, only causing slight trouble when she voiced outlandish opinions.

It was with thoughts of her grandmother that Amarantha sent her letter to her Keeper, reassuring her clan that she was no longer a prisoner, and remained with the humans of her own free will. She'd said nothing of the mark, or what happened at the Conclave (that she could remember), merely that there had been an explosion, and she had some insight that might help those who sought justice find it.

Her mother had replied saying she knew better and told her to be careful, but that she was proud that someone of the Lavellan clan was doing something more than memorizing ancient elven history, and that her sister missed her greatly and her father missed training with her.

It was good to hear from home, and to know that her parents and sister fared well. She missed Amaryllis the most, if she were honest; missed the girl's imagination - far too much like their grandmothers'- and her innocent wisdom. She was pleased to know they were safe, just as she was, and that comfort made her able to focus on the more immediate issues that lingered on their doorstep.

Word was spreading about the Inquisition. Some members of the Chantry had come forward in support, as well as some minor nobles. Word got out to others too, and in the month since meeting Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands, Amarantha had ventured to Val Royeaux to meet a grand enchanter as well as a petty criminal who both wanted to join in. The Storm Coast had introduced her to a strange Qunari spy named the Iron Bull who was loud, brash, and larger than life. Amarantha liked him immensely, though he was a little more crude than she was used to. A lone Warden appeared in the Hinterlands who decided to join forces with the Inquisition as well.

It was a mismatched group of people, all with different ideas and beliefs and methods of work, but they all believed in stopping the Breach and helping those who couldn't help themselves. Even as Amarantha was wary of some of them, she recalled her silent promise that she would allow any to help so long as they believed in the cause, and would look past personal differences so long as the job got done. She stuck to that rule with great ferocity, and before long, she had a council and an inner circle of hired help that clashed in appearance and sometimes thought, but they were all good, and they all had so much to offer.

The Iron Bull and Varric were Haven's comedic relief. They always had a kind word and a witty remark to lighten the heavy burden that so many people carried. Iron Bull found other ways of relieving tension as well, and Amarantha was more than a little bewildered from overhearing so many people make idle comments about how he'd 'relieved' them. Sera was another one of the common man. She was determined to represent 'people' and insisted that Amarantha do the same. The Dalish elf told her city counterpart, who despised being called an elf at all, that she represented all those who stood to lose against the Breach, which Sera appreciated, but she seemed to want a more zealous approach, of which Amarantha was not willing to give.

Vivienne was not 'people', as Sera would put it, and while Amarantha appreciated the woman's ability, and was also grateful for how she'd handled the rowdy noble who had insulted her when they'd first been introduced, the appreciation stopped there. Vivienne was an ambitious woman, and while Amarantha saw nothing wrong with that, the mage seemed a little too certain of herself, and often spoke down her. She was certain Vivienne meant well, but the woman unnerved her some, more than Cassandra ever had, and before Cassandra had been downright feral. But Amarantha sought her counsel nonetheless, though she did it a little less than she sought everyone else's, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the enchanter.

Blackwall was a mystery in himself; a Grey Warden who had no idea where the others had gone off to, he wanted to seek them out as much as he wanted to help with the Breach. He was a quiet man and didn't offer much in the way of information, both professionally or personally. Amarantha liked him all right, and thought he was a kind, gentle spirit, but she sensed that there was more to him than met the eye. She wasn't interested in digging information out of a buried trove, so she let the man be, but made sure to greet him when she stopped by the blacksmith's for updates and requisitions. He always seemed to appreciate the small gesture.

With the addition of these members, which brought along an assortment of connections, the Inquisition was growing more and more powerful. The Friends of Red Jenny were always aware of someone in need of help; The Bull's Chargers were a tough and ready team who could be sent out on missions too delicate for official solders, but not urgent enough for Leliana's spies. Vivienne was a woman of power and influence, and her connections to nobility brought about a great many acquaintances to Haven to see what the fuss was about. Vivienne was a professional at persuasion, and many of those who came merely to snoop and be seen were thoroughly convinced of the Inquisition's cause, and left pledging allegiance.

Cullen's past with the Templars and Cassandra's connection as a Seeker also allowed for some hope that they might align with the Inquisition. There was still uncertainty as to whether the Templars would help, as the trip to Val Royeaux a month before to meet with Vivienne had resulted in the Lord Seeker Lucius denouncing the Inquisition and pulling his forces from the city, leaving it unprotected. Cullen was adamant that the Templar's would help, and Amarantha believed him, though she was still uncertain where she stood on the matter. Mages and Templars were both problematic from her perspective. She was familiar with mages thanks to her clan, but never had she encountered a Templar until Cullen. And he was a kind man, determined and dedicated to his work. She thought that if perhaps all Templar's were like him, they would be a good group to have in their ranks.

But not all were like him, she learned from the trip to Val Royeaux and it was growing frustrating that she could not decide what to do. Her uncertainty was straining on the council as well, as they all had their own opinions on the matter, but they looked to her for the final word: a word she was not ready to give just yet.

Deciding that she wanted to know more about the order, she approached Cullen one day, while he was out training the troops. The outside area of Haven was snowy and cold, but the men and women who were training dripped with sweat, their cheeks flushed as they worked on exercises at the patient instruction of their Commander.

"Lift that shield!" He called to one recruit, then turned, startling when Amarantha stood before him, blinking curiously. "Oh! Herald," he said, bowing his head slightly in a display of respect, "I wasn’t expecting you."

"I know," she said softly, "I forget that others here aren't used to my...."

"Ability to be frighteningly sneaky?" He asked, a playful smile on his lips. It was strange to see the Commander not serious, though he was never gruff or callous, but Amarantha thought she liked the look of happiness on his face, then wondered with a start where those thoughts kept coming from.

"I was going to say 'quiet', but sneaky works as well," she laughed, then motioned for Cullen to walk with her. He called out for the recruits to take a brief break, and followed the elf.

"I wanted to ask about the Templars," she said. Cullen tensed.

"Oh. Um, what do you want to know?"

Amarantha shrugged, and sat on the edge of the bottom step at the entrance to Haven. The stone was cool under her, and she brushed some snow off the spot beside her and gestured for Cullen to sit with her. He did, and the warmth that radiated off him was enough to make her cheeks heat.

"I don't know where I stand," she admitted, "Both the Templars and mages would be useful, but with this fight going on, I keep being told what's wrong with both sides, but I'm not told why each side would be the right choice." She paused, shuffling some snow with her boot. "There are plenty of mages here who can tell me why we should align with them. But I'd like your opinion on the Templars."

Cullen's hand rose to rub the back of his neck, and he looked away in a manner that was quite boyish. "Oh," he murmured, "Well, I'm glad you trust my opinion."

"Well, you _were_ a Templar," she teased. "And any input would be helpful. I confess I know nothing about the Order, being Dalish and all."

He sobered then, and turned to face her. "What would you like to know?"

_Everything,_ she thought to herself, but chose instead to ask for the basics. Cullen explained what the order was, what they did, and his role therein. Amarantha asked about what life was like, curious as to how it compared to her own. He told her about Templar daily life, about training and prayer and devotion, and it was with only a slight blush to her cheeks that she asked if Templars were celibate.

_That_ sent Cullen into a stuttering mess, and he babbled for a moment about how while there were rules, Templars were free to have relationships and marry if they wished. For some reason that made Amarantha glad, and again it stunned her that she would react in such away to someone she barely knew, let alone a human. She'd always thought that if she were to feel romantic affection, it would be for someone like her. She was not against being with someone non-elven, it had just never occurred to her that she might prefer someone who wasn't an elf. A small part of her thought that if she were to pursue anyone at the Inquisition, the most logical option should be Solas. But something about that notion felt.... _wrong_ , though she couldn't place why.

Perhaps it was because she viewed him as more of a mentor than anything else, and decided that that was precisely why. He was a mentor, an elder of sorts, and she respected him too much to think of him as anything other than a hahren, a teacher. Not that she did not respect Cullen, but thoughts of Cullen were warm and inviting. She liked thinking about Cullen, much as she knew she shouldn't.

There was no time for that regardless, she thought, and so she bottled up those feelings and pushed them down, and put her focus back on learning about Templars and the benefits of having them as part of the Inquisition.

 

\-------------------------------------

 

Council meetings were strange affairs in Amarantha's opinion. She stood at the table which held the large map detailing all of Thedas, joined by Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen, all of whom had varying requests, information, and suggestions. Amarantha welcomed all of them, of course, being so new to the world beyond that of her clan. She wasn't stupid by any means, but she was a clear outsider. She knew the lands well from her travels over the years, but there were many things she did not know, and while it was overwhelming at times to remember everything that she was told, she was grateful to be a part of the Inquisition, regardless of her slight distaste as to _how_ she arrived there.

"Nobles from all across Thedas are offering support," Josephine reported, her accent sweet and cheerful as always. Amarantha had no idea how the young woman stayed so collected, but she was the epitome of grace, and Amarantha thought the Antivan could rival many elves she knew with how she handled herself. She walked with a lightness that many of her clan would envy, and it always brought a slight smile to the Dalish's lips to think of Josephine trying to survive in her camp.

"That's good," Cassandra said, bringing Amarantha's attention away from imagining Josephine hunting a bear to the situation at hand, "We need support; the fighting is getting worse and if we don't align soon I fear both sides will finish each other off."

The group agreed, and then, as they had done every day since the decision to align with either mages or Templars, they began to argue over with whom they should align. They bickered, each making good points. Amarantha listened carefully, her conversation with Cullen the day before fresh in her mind. He seemed positive that the Templars would be perfect allies, though her discussions with Solas had left her just as confused, as he believed the mages would be better worth the Inquisition’s time. The council was just as divided, and finally Cassandra turned to the Herald and said, "What is your opinion?"

"Yes," Leliana said, crossing her arms, "You've been awfully silent on the matter."

Amarantha stood, feeling like a halla caught in a trap by a skilled hunter. She glanced from person to person, trying to gauge their expressions while she decided. The truth was, she didn't know. They both were perfectly good options in her opinion. She thought back to Solas' discussion, and then to Cullen's. Both were convincing; both were honest and trustworthy to her.

Of course, the Inquisition already had mages. Vivienne, Solas. Bull even had a mage on his team, though the Dalish woman always corrected anyone who mistook her as such. There were a few rogue mages as well who had joined, weary of the fighting but desirous to do something. Not many Templars had joined the cause, and while Amarantha believed the mages would be great assets, she could not deny the skill of the Templars would not be just as beneficial.

Feeling like her decision had been made, Amarantha look up, choosing to meet Josephine's gaze, as she was the only one in the room who would most likely remain calm and neutral on the matter. "I do not make this decision lightly,” she began, “And by saying such, I do not discount the other group. But I think we should speak to the Templars," She spoke slowly, cautiously, afraid her words would cause a burst of yelling and anger. But nothing happened other than Cassandra instructing Josephine to make the necessary arrangements. Leliana offered some agents to join them on the trip, just as a precaution, to which Amarantha agreed.

Looking over, she saw Cullen, his gaze on her, a small, appreciative smile on his lips. She smiled back, feeling ridiculous and suddenly worried that _he_ had influenced her decision. Not by giving her facts, but by merely being him. She thought back suddenly, ready to change her mind should she find herself guilty of such a horrible crime, but when she thought, all that she could see were the facts; Cullen himself was not a factor.

That brought some relief, and so Amarantha asked what needed to be done before they left, and the arrangements were discussed. She left the meeting not feeling any more certain than when she'd entered, and when she found herself alone for the first time that day, she dropped to her knees and prayed that her decision had been the right one.

 

\-------------------------------

 

There was so much to be done, but thankfully, Amarantha had plenty of people willing and able to help. So many problems needed her personal assistance, and she liked to get out and help as much as possible. It made more sense to her to fetch medicine for a sick woman or deliver news of family to those who waited on bated breath for word. It was not always good news, and when she did have to inform a wife or mother that their loved one was no longer with them, it was always difficult. But Amarantha was a comforter, and she would wrap the mourning in her arms, whisper a word of peace and comfort in her language, and would remind the person that the Inquisition would help in whatever way it could.

Cassandra remarked on more than one occasion that such acts were exactly why people believed she was the Herald, but Amarantha didn't understand what was so divine and noble about simply being kind. She kept her opinion to herself, and merely moved on to help someone else.

Everyone wanted something from her, it seemed, and finally Amarantha was forced to put priorities on certain things. Solas wanted to find shards and elven artifacts, which she found herself interested in as well, but when rifts were appearing and people were suffering, it was not something they could merely gallivant off and do. Blackwall wanted information on the missing Wardens, and Sera kept bringing reports about 'people' needing help. These things she could delegate, to a degree, and she did so, allowing Solas to put together a small team to look for shards at his leisure. Blackwall kept up with scout reportings of anything related to Wardens. Sera went off to take care of Red Jenny issues, and the Chargers proved their worth ten-fold by doing odd jobs and helping in a variety of ways.

Even with all the help, it was still exhausting running from place to place, helping people desperate for a sign of hope as well as closing rifts and slaying demons. The mark proved difficult as well, painful each time she used it, but it was growing duller by the day. There was a constant pulsing that went in time with her heartbeat, and eventually she grew used to it to the point that it no longer was noticeable unless someone pointed out that she was clenching her fist or that her hand was swollen, an unfortunate side effect of using the mark so much. But she pressed on, doing her best and trying not to complain. Things could be worse, she reasoned, and she could either use her time to complain or to get things done.

She chose the latter.

Finally, with great eagerness, if not a bit of slight unease, the time came for Amarantha to travel to Therinfal Redoubt to speak with the leader of the Templars. She anticipated an easy journey and long talks, but she relished it now, after being out for a week to the Fallow Mire, looking into some other matters that had required her direct attention. The Redoubt was a beautiful place, foreign as Haven sometimes felt with its towers of stone instead of trees. But there was beauty there as well, and Amarantha once more marveled at how strange it was that she of all people had been chosen - though that word still didn't sit right - to do all that she'd done.

She was joined by Cassandra, Varric, and Vivienne, whose connections with the nobles who were joining them made her a necessary companion. She was there to help with negotiations, as Amarantha hadn't felt she was quite ready to address nobles and the leader of the Templars. She was a figurehead, a symbol, and thought it might be best to bring along someone who knew how to talk to these people.

Vivienne seemed at ease in the presence of the nobility, while Cassandra seemed irritated - which was nothing new - and Varric was simply along for the ride. Bull had declined accompanying her, saying that he'd be more of a distraction than help. Blackwall had confessed to a hatred of public places, especially with so many nobles, and that he was more useful when they were out slaying demons.

Sera had been out of the question, and Solas had declined as well, claiming it not wise to bring an apostate mage to a city full of Templars. Vivienne hadn't seemed worried about being a mage, indeed she seemed to relish the slight challenge it presented, and so with her party, joined by a noble named Lord Esmeral Abernache they entered the gates of the city.

Abernache was a garish man, Amarantha decided upon greeting him, though he seemed pleasant enough. He didn't remark on her heritage, though his eyes hovered over her vallaslin a moment longer than necessary. He bid her welcome and began to discuss the peculiarity of why the leader of the Templars had taken such an interest in her. There were usually only two reasons why someone cared so much about her or the Inquisition at this point: either they viewed her as a Herald or a heretic, and both brought more trouble than she thought the titles were worth.

They walked further into the city, eventually greeted by a Ser Barris, with whom Abernache clashed instantly. Barris ignored the haughty noble and spoke to the Herald instead, expressing concern about the Lord Seeker and his commanders. "He promised to restore order's honor, but then he marched us here to wait. It makes no sense. Something is wrong, but I believe if you can convince him to join the Inquisition, things will begin making sense once more."

They arrived to an open courtyard surrounded by stone buildings all around. Training dummies lined one wall, while a rack of weapons lined the wall next to it. In the middle was a well, with wooden fence railings wrapped in parts around it. A few buckets lay discarded at the foot of the well, and a rope hung from an arch above it, loose and moving about slightly in the light breeze.  On the south wall there were three flags lined up, with cranks on pedestals before them, to lift or lower the flags as necessary.

"It is a ritual," Barris explained, "One the Lord Seeker wants _you_ to complete. He changed everything to meet you. It was all so sudden. He was adamant that you come."

"What do I do?" Amarantha asked, nodding toward the flags, trying to keep her suspicion of the Templar's words at bay.

Barris explained what each flag meant and the purpose of the exercise. Others in her party suggested they not waste time, but Amarantha was not one to dismiss the rituals of another. She appreciated the prayers and vigils those who worshiped Andrate performed, and had been a passive observer in several morning and evening prayer sessions. To respect one but disregard another felt wrong and went against her personal objective of being a welcoming and open place for all, so she turned and raised the flags, choosing the people first, the Templar second, and Andraste last.

When questioned on her choice, she shrugged. "I believe the people are the first priority. They must be protected."

Barris nodded, not seeming pleased nor displeased with her answer, and motioned for them to follow him into a room to the west of the flags. When they entered the office, once more dark despite the torches that lined the walls, Amarantha felt her stomach sink with nerves. Something felt wrong here, and she glanced at Cassandra who returned her gaze with the same worried expression. There was a desk in the middle, and Barris moved toward it, Abernache following angrily.

"You are wasting our time!" He cried, "Where is your commander? I want to speak to someone of importance!"

Barris turned to snap at the man, but stopped short when a door on the other side of the room opened. "Knight-Commander!"

"You were expecting the Lord Seeker. He sent me to die for you." The man, heavily decked in armor said as she strutted up to the desk. He lit a few extra candles, taking his time with the action, and Abernache used the opportunity to speak up once more.

He tried to compliment the Knight-Captain, using all the grace and suavity that was typical of the nobility, according to Josephine at least, but the Captain seemed unmoved.

" _This_ is the grand alliance the Inquisition offers?" He scoffed. "The Lord Seeker had a plan, but the Herald ruined it by showing up with purpose. It sowed too much dissent."

Barris stepped forward, standing partially in front of Amarantha, "Knight-Captain I must know what is going on!"

"You were all supposed to change," the Knight-Captain hissed, turning his gaze onto Barris, "Now we must dispose of the questioning knights."

Both behind and in front, the doors opened once more and knights entered, swords drawn and ready. Amarantha's eyes widened at the sight of them: under the heavy armor they bore were traces of red. It ran over their skin as if it were in their very veins, staining them a hideous color that brought to mind demons instead of the men that had once been.

Beside her, Abernache opened his mouth to speak, but an arrow, one from a sixth knight who had entered behind the others, pierced his neck, and the man collapsed into a bloody heap on the floor.

"The Elder One is coming!" The Knight-Captain bellowed, "And no one will leave here who is not stained red!"

Amarantha called for an attack, and those with her, including the few agents Leliana had supplied, drew their weapons and began to fight back. Amarantha sliced the neck of one soldier, calling out to Barris for information. Barris had no idea what was happening and as they fought they agreed it was best to find the Lord Seeker. Once the knights in the room were dead, Amarantha looked at Cassandra, who looked as horrified and confused as she felt. "Let's go," she ordered, and Amarantha followed.

They fought their way through waves of Templars who were stained red, Barris and Cassandra leading the way to where the Lord Seeker might be. He wasn't where Barris had originally suspected, and so they continued on, eventually coming to a set of stairs in a small courtyard that led into the main hall of Therinfal Redoubt. As they climbed, a voice rang out around them, ominous and threatening.

"The Herald of Andraste!" It boomed, "It's time we become better acquainted!"

Amarantha raced up the stairs, Barris and the others hot on her heels. She arrived at the landing at the top of the stairs where Lucius stood, his back to her, as if he were expecting her but not worried in the slightest what she might do to him. Deciding that diplomacy was no longer an option, Amarantha stepped forward, to confront the crazed man on what was going on. She wanted answers, wanted an explanation for what his men were doing, and she was going to get it now. She reached him and he turned, towering over her as he grinned in a manner that froze her to the core. He grabbed her before she could react, and pulled her to him, crying out a crazed, "At last!"

A light blinded her, and when it faded, she was no longer on the landing of the steps near the grand hall, but somewhere else entirely. Worse still, she realized as she gathered her bearings, was that she was completely alone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I appreciate it! 
> 
> How about that DLC? I haven't played it but I've done nothing but read/watch spoilers and....dang. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Amarantha navigates her way to Lucius with some help; an alliance is made.


	5. Opening Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walls keep people out; doors can let people in.

Chapter Five: Opening Doors

 

The room was hazy, full of mist and cold. The ground, solid though it was, felt more akin to quicksand, and Amarantha struggled to keep her balance, disoriented from the fall. The room stretched on before her for an eternity. Torches hung from square pillars that stood on either side of the pathway, spaced about ten feet apart lighting the path dimly. It was enough light to allow Amarantha to see that there was nothing else around. She was truly alone. The silence rang out piercingly and Amarantha gripped her head, feeling a dull ache rising. Her hand sparked and pulsed hard as well and it did not stop.

Suddenly, A wolf's howl broke through the silence, though it was far away, barely a whisper of a sound.

_Where am I?_ Amarantha wondered as she gathered her bearings. _T_ _his must be a dream,_ she figured after glancing around once more, _I have to be unconscious, and now I’m dreaming._

Figuring there was nothing to be done but continue on her way until she woke, Amarantha stepped forward, slowly, measuring each step with caution. As she walked, more lights peaked up from the ground and the relief that Amarantha initially felt at the sight of more light quickly dwindled into horrified disgust as she saw the flames danced upon the charred corpses of Templars. She cried out, slapping a hand over her mouth to silence herself, but pressed on.

In the distance, beyond the rows of corpses stood two figures, and Amarantha recognized them immediately. Cullen and Josephine stood waiting for her, still as statues. Whereas any other time Amarantha would be pleased to see them, now she only felt dread. They grinned at her, the smiles twisted and unfriendly, and Amarantha slowly approached, hands at the ready to grab her weapons.

Behind them it appeared that the world dissipated into a forest, with bushes and trees scattered around. Behind one of the bushes, Leliana appeared, her own features morphed into a look of malice and contempt.

"Is this shape useful?" The form asked, and the twisted voice that seeked from its lips was not Leliana. They were all - hopefully, Amarantha thought - back at Haven, and this woman before her was not the Leliana Amarantha considered a friend. "Will it let me know you?" She asked.

Amarantha remained silent, recalling a time when she'd knelt before Cassandra, defiantly silent. Now it appeared that 'Leliana' would receive that same treatment. "Everything tells me about you," she hissed, moving to stand behind Cullen, who did not flinch or even blink. He was solid, stone, and in her heart Amarantha knew what was about to happen. "Including this: watch."

The knife slid over his flesh with a practiced ease. The flesh of Cullen's neck split open, and blood oozed out of the wound, but the Commander did not react. He merely slumped to the floor, dead before her. Amarantha cried out, reaching a hand out to him instinctively, forgetting in the horror of the moment that this wasn’t - _couldn't_ be - real. 'Leliana' laughed at the Herald, whose eyes were watering despite her best efforts. _This isn’t a dream,_ Amarantha realized suddenly. _If it were, I’d have woken. This is real...Creators, it’s real!_

"What do you want, demon?" Amarantha hissed, glaring at the creature that had taken form of the spymaster.

The demon laughed, then spoke again, mimicking her own voice, "”What do you want, demon?”

It vanished in a cloud of smoke, only to replace the figure of Josephine, who looked at her with such contempt. "Being you will be so much more interesting than being the Lord Seeker," the spirit said, laughing wickedly as she paced. She moved around, Amarantha following her steps with her eyes, before 'Josephine' disappeared. Amarantha stood, jumping in fright when the creature appeared behind her again, whispering in the ambassador’'s voice, "Do you know what the Inquisition could become? You'll see. I will kill you, The Elder One will ascend, and then I will _be_ you," it laughed once more.

"Who exactly is this Elder One?" Amarantha asked, forcing her mind to focus on the truth and not the lie of the demon wearing her friend's face. She would not be fooled; she would not allow this creature to overwhelm her.

It ignored her, laughing before replying, "Glory is coming; and the Elder One wants you to serve him like everyone else: by dying in the right way!"

She turned and vanished, then to her right 'Cullen' appeared once more. Seeing him was startling, but she steeled herself, reminded herself that this was _not_ Cullen, and stared him down.

"I am not your toy," it hissed in the Commander's voice, "I am Envy!"

The world around them changed, and suddenly they were at the war table, 'Cullen' glaring at her over it. "Tell me what you know," it declared, "Tell me what you feel. Tell me what you see!" An image of herself appeared then, dark with glowing eyes like a shadow, and it stood before her staring blankly. 'Cullen' moved and stabbed the copy of Amarantha, and it sputtered and cried out before falling to the ground.

Air rushed out of Amarantha at the sight of Cullen harming her, and she blinked in shock until she forced herself to gain control of herself. "Enough!" Amarantha cried, to herself and to the scene playing out before her and instantly the images vanished and she was in the empty long hallway once more. Sighing, she shook her head to relieve herself of the images she had just seen, and began to walk, first slowly, then disregarding caution for running, eager to get out of there.

She ran, and as she did, fragments of memories began to appear along the landscape. Images of her imprisonment flickered like a performance on her right, while childhood frolicking rushed by her on the left. Images of her family appeared in front of her, but she rushed through them, ignoring their cries for her to come back to them. The wolf howled again, but she ignored it, and kept going, head bent, eyes forward, not allowing herself to be distracted by the fragments that this demon was trying to pry from her.

She came across a vision of herself, receiving reports that the Inquisition was the power of Thedas. The copy of her laughed, but Amarantha shoved past it, crying out, "You clearly don't know me, demon!" It laughed and the scene vanished, and Amarantha continued running.

All around her the voice followed, taunting and threatening, but Amarantha pursued her goal to escape. She would not address the demon, not now, and she would destroy it when she figured out where she was and how to escape. The voice taunted her again, but then another voice chimed in, this one unfamiliar, but kind, gentle, like a bird softly singing at the dawn. The demon seemed just as surprised as her, and Amarantha took the opportunity of the distraction to duck into a room that had appeared suddenly to catch her breath.

She waited a moment, then turned to leave the room, which looked like one of the many small rooms back at Haven. As she reached the door, the same soft voice from before cried out.

"Wait!"

She jerked around, surprised to see a young man standing before her, long blond hair hanging over his eyes, a large hat sitting slightly crooked on his head.

"Envy is hurting you," it said, and Amarantha felt better for hearing the kind voice. She didn't understand why, but having this stranger here made her feel better. "I want to help."

"Who are you?"

The boy, for he could be nothing else for how young he looked, disappeared, then reappeared behind her. "I've been watching. I'm Cole. We're in your head. Or, I am. You're always in your head."

Her head? Amarantha pondered that for a moment. It made sense; how else could this demon access her memories, many of which only she was privy to? It didn't explain the images where Cullen had been slain or when the shadowy copy of herself had declared victory for the Inquisition, but Amarantha figured those were merely tricks of this Envy Demon, trying to distract her with things that it sought to accomplish in the future.

In the end Amarantha decided it really made no difference. What mattered was that this creature wanted her dead and the kindly looking creature in front of her had indicated a desire to help. It was a risk, but she had no other options at the moment, not if she wanted to figure out what was going on and stop the demon from whatever wicked schemes he had up his sleeve.

"You want to help?" She asked the boy who nodded eagerly, reminding Amarantha of an eager pup. "Then get me the hell out of here."

"I can do that," the boy, Cole, said, turning and walking out the door. "Follow me."

She followed him quietly, watching the boy as he walked forward, back straight and rigid as he navigated the long hallway, occasionally taking a turn through a doorway, ignoring burning corpses and the voice of the demon as they moved.

"Envy hurt you," he said softly, "Is hurting you."

Amarantha was silent for a moment, then answered, "Yes."

"I want to help. You. Not him."

"Thank you."

"I was watching. The Templars were impressed. But not like the Lord Seeker."

"You mean the Envy Demon," Amarantha corrected, "The one that wants to be me, apparently."

"Yes. It twisted the commanders. Forced their fight, their fury." He paused and looked at her, pained, "They're red inside. I watched and then reached out, then in. And here I am."

"So are you a demon? A phantom?"

"I'm Cole," was the simple reply.

"Right," Amarantha said, deciding that made about as much sense as anything else that had happened, and would worry about _what_ Cole was later. Now it wasn't so important. Then another thought struck.  "If we're in my head, what's happening 'out there'?"

"Thoughts are fast," Cole said with a shrug.

Again, it made about as much sense as anything else, and so she accepted that fact, choosing to ask more questions when she and her friends weren't in immediate danger.

"So what are we doing?"

"We are going," Cole said, "If we go, Envy stretches, and that takes strength. Being one person is hard; being many is harder. Envy will break and then you will break out."

"It's as good a plan as any," Amarantha said as they continued their slow pace, "I'm glad you're here," and said a moment later.

That made the boy smile. "I'm glad I can help."

They continued on, eventually entering a room in which Chancellor Roderick stood, and the Envy Demon began to taunt her, telling her that it was going to love taking her face and bringing the Inquisition to its knees before it.

"It's only real if you let it be," Cole whispered, and Amarantha nodded, throwing a curse in Elven over her shoulder and continuing on, ignoring the scene before her.

"Quiet, Thing!" Envy hissed, "I am learning!"

Amarantha cursed again. "Learn what that means."

More memories appeared at that, but Amarantha ignored them, maneuvering her way through empty jail cells, following Cole, whose steps were growing faster, eager to get away from the hurt the demon was trying to cause her.

They moved to another long hallway, this one with two doors on each side. In one cell, Amarantha heard shouting, and she followed it, motioning for Cole to follow her. Inside the room, behind a row of rusty bars stood Josephine, her usually pristine clothing torn and filthy.

"I don't know what the Inquisitor wants!" She cried, "Please let me go."

"This hurts you," Cole said suddenly, and Amarantha noticed the tugging on her heart, the pain at seeing her friend so frightened. She moved out and then into another room. In this room was Cullen, and he was on his knees, reciting the Chant of Light.

Amarantha stared at him, and again her heart sank at the sight.

"Warm, calm, kind. A stranger in many ways but my heart still reaches toward his, wanting, wondering, wishing."

Amarantha whirled around with wide eyes to where Cole was standing, arms behind his back. "You hurt. You don't like seeing him hurt too. He means so much even though he shouldn’t."

Those words had echoed her thoughts, and it was unnerving that he had seen through her so clearly. She wasn't sure she liked that Cole had read her so thoroughly, and she eyed him warily for a moment.

"I hear hurt," the boy explained, once more knowing her thoughts, "I only want to help."

"Let's focus on getting out of here, then," she said, glancing back to Cullen once more before running out of the room.

They came to a wall at the end of the hallway, and Amarantha let out a grunt of frustration. "Dead end."

"Just a wall," Cole said, touching it with a pale hand, "He wants to stop you, so he puts up walls. Lots of people put up walls; you don’t. You build doors. Open and inviting but still closed. You give out the keys, but not to everyone and not to every door. Doors keep people out even as they promise more on the other side. There can be a door here, but only you can build it and only you can open it.”

Blinking at the cryptic words, she pondered just what he meant. She'd not intentionally kept anyone out, not since the Inquisition had formed. But she hadn’t opened herself either, not truly. She spoke to people, have develop some fragile but blossoming friendships, but she hadn’t really laid herself bare before anyone, in any sense. She’d talked to Bull a little about her vallaslin, after she’d inquired about his vitaar, but that had been the most personal she’d gotten, minus telling Cassandra that her clan was last traveling through the Free Marshes.

Glancing down at her hand, the green of the mark continued to spark. She’d not noticed. Glancing from it to the wall, an idea formed.

"You want a door?” She asked, not expecting an answer, “I’ll give you something better.” She flung her hand forward. The energy sparked forth from the mark and hit the wall with a loud _crack!_ The wall shattered before her, crumbling into thousands of pieces, leaving a gaping hole in the structure of the wall. Dust rose from where the stone hit solid ground, mingling with the misty haze that permeated the air, clouding her vision for a long moment. She stepped through the cloud unafraid, and stopped on the other side. Before them was another hallway, was a staircase, stone steps disappearing around a corner.

"There," Cole said, and they rushed forward, up the steps and out the large wooden door at the end.

They were outside, but they were still stuck....wherever they were. In her mind, she supposed. The woods stretched out long and unending just as the hallways before had. She and Cole shared a glance and began to run, once more ignoring the voice of the Envy Demon, who was growing angrier by the moment. They ran, eventually coming to a circular opening surrounded by tall buildings with a well in the middle.

"I know where we are!" Amarantha exclaimed, and suddenly, as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes, she knew exactly what to do.

She ran, following the path Ser Barris had taken, which ultimately lead her to the large ominous staircase where she had found the Lord Seeker.

Up the stairs she went, fighting off a few demons as she did, Cole right behind her. She reached the landing just as she had the first time when she’d raced up to face the Lord Seeker. He was not there this time, but the door was, red and large, daring her to enter. She stepped toward it, then a figure grabbed her shoulder, whirling her around to face it. It was her; or rather it was a copy of her, shadowy with glowing eyes and wisps of darkness swirling around her like tentacles. Amarantha was pushed up and against the door by her shadow, the creature screaming at her hatefully.

“Unfair, unfair! That _thing_ kept you whole! Kept me from getting your shape!”

Amarantha felt herself being lifted, off the ground, the shadow’s hand moving to clutch her throat, squeezing hard.

“What could you gain by being me?” She asked, breathless, feeling her head becoming cloudy from lack of air.

“What could you gain by being me!” The copy repeated, spitting the words out venomously. It didn’t answer the question, but merely pushed its hand harder against Amarantha. “We’ll start again,” it said, “More pain this time. The Elder One still comes!”

She needed to get away, Amarantha thought hurriedly. She needed to get out of this things grip, to get back to her friends, to stop everything this creature wanted to do in the name of The Elder One. Her eyes shifted around for Cole, thinking his presence would be useful at that moment, but the spirit was nowhere to be seen. Had he abandoned her? Had this been the plan all along? To trick her into thinking she was safe with the spirit?

“It’s scared of you,” his voice said suddenly, from above. Amarantha glanced up to where Cole stood on the hand of a large statue. The Envy Demon turned to glare at the boy, its grip loosening just enough in its distraction for Amarantha to gain leverage. She gripped the creature’s arm, yanking herself down so she touched the floor. When it turned back to look at her, she slammed her head into its own, a sharp pain bursting before her, but she ignored it, stepping forward once more to slam her fist into its face, feeling a smug sense of pleasure at getting the creature for trying to take over her being.

The creature screamed and Amarantha turned to look at Cole, who was no longer there. When she glanced back down, she was back on the landing, but Varric, Cassandra, Vivienne, and the scouts were with her, weapons drawn, staring in horror at the sight before them. She looked too, startling with horror as the demon that had attacked her revealed its true form. It was pale, body bent in a way that no human could survive. Its back looked as if it had been snapped in half, and it’s arms and legs stretched out from it like spider legs, long and oddly bent, clawing at the ground as it twisted to reveal a face that was made of pure evil. Flesh covered the expanse where eyes should have been, and the mouth stretched wide and angry, numerous sharp fangs hanging in varying shades of yellow and black from rotting gums. It screeched, clearly furious, then vanished, leaving the room full of confused Templars looking on in shock.

Barris approached, looking at Amarantha. “The Lord Seeker,” he breathed, clearly distraught by his commander’s fate.

“No,” Amarantha corrected, laying a hand on the taller man’s shoulder. “An imposter. One who must be stopped.”

“We don’t even know what we are up against,” Barris said sorrowfully, and some of the Templars nearby nodded in agreement.

“An Envy Demon. One who took the Lord Seeker’s place.”

“Then the Lord Seeker is-“ Cassandra spoke up behind her, trailing off, unable to finish the thought. She’d respected the man, and now he was either dead or Creators knew what. It was too late to worry about him however; they had more pressing issues.

“We need to stop this thing,” Amarantha said.

“We’ll need help,” Barris said, “Our lieutenants. And uncorrupted lyrium.”

Amarantha turned to her company. “Cassandra, Varric, Vivienne, find the lieutenants.” She turned to the agents, “You find lyrium. As much as you can. Go!”

Cassandra paused, “What will you do?”

“Cole and I will help fight,” Amarantha said. Varric looked at her strangely.

“Who’s Cole?”

Amarantha looked around, noticing for the first time that Cole was nowhere to be found. Had she merely imagined him? Had he been her subconscious? Shaking her head, Amarantha waved the question away. “Never mind. Go!”

The group split up, and Amarantha turned to Barris. “Get your men ready,” she said, “This will take everything we’ve got. This thing means business”

“Templars!” Barris called, “Show no mercy!”

The Templars voiced a great, unified shout, and turned to face the oncoming battle.

\-----------------------------

Cassandra, Varric, and Vivienne rushed through the corridors looking for the veterans Barris had mentioned. As they found them, they informed them of what had happened, and sent them on to the great hall to join the fight. The lieutenants were grateful to be of use, and with battle cries they rushed to the hall, ready to defend their brothers and fight for goodness and truth.

They continued to look, opening doors and calling out for those who had yet to be found to answer. Vivienne blasted open one door with a slam of her staff, and the door flew off the hinges. She stepped forward, then paused, a manicured hand coming up to cover her lips.

“Oh, my.”

Cassandra and Varric turned their attention to the mage, their eyes widening at the sight before them. An empty room like the others was before them but this one had been marked with strange markings, red as blood. The symbols covered every free space in the room. In the middle stood a table, a bust of the Empress Celene resting as the centerpiece, surrounded by candles and books, looking almost like an altar. Her head was scratched, as if someone had taken a knife to the figure, slicing it in a rage and making it look more like a place where one intended to hold a sacrifice rather than to worship. A paper sat at the foot of the bust, written in a sloppy hand, detailing a desire to see the Empress removed from the picture.

“The Elder One wants her dead.”

Vivienne jumped, a motion most unlike her, and glanced up behind the bust. She stared for a moment. “Who are you?” She asked, composing herself.

“I’m Cole. I’m here to help,” Cole said, “And Empress Celene needs help. He hates her; haunts her. He wants her dead but hides why.”

“So a plot against the Empress,” Varric drawled, “This guy doesn’t think small does he?”

“He thinks big,” Cole said, “Because that’s what he wants to be. He must be big and to be big he cannot have bigger things in his way. He will knock them down like a child playing with blocks and he will grow, fed on the fear and anger and loss.”

“Not if we have anything to say about the matter,” Vivienne huffed. She turned to Cassandra and Varric, “We must return to the Herald. And you, boy,” she said, turning to look at Cole, stopping short when she saw he was no longer there. She bristled, not liking that he had left without her giving him leave, but squared her shoulders and turned back to her companions. “Let us go.”

The group ran, the sounds of the fighting in the main hall loud and devastating. Battle cries rang through the air, often followed by the screech of demons howling in anguish and anger.

The scouts caught up to the others, each carrying a large crate of lyrium and running as quickly as they could despite the weight of the medicine. Arriving in the great hall, the group helped finish off the remaining demons. Cole was among the ranks now as well, two small daggers twirling in his hands as he made short work of the demons in his path.

Soon they were all gone and the Templars began to hand out the lyrium, drinking deep from the canisters, the power of the drug restoring them to full potential.

"We will focus our energy to draw it out," Barris said once he's ensured the Templars had all partaken in the safe lyrium.

"We'll cover you," Amarantha replied and the soldiers readied themselves to focus their energy toward the magical barrier that the Envy Demon had constructed when it fled from them before.

They bowed, concentrating deeply, and as their own power drew forth the magic, calling forth more demons as they worked. The group took care of those creatures with a practiced ease, and after a time the barrier shriveled and tremors began to radiate from the center of it.

It exploded, magic coursing around them for a moment, sharp and strong before evaporating like a mist, leaving  nowhere for the demon to hide. Amarantha charged forward, not wanting to waste one moment, and the others charged with her, reaching a opening where the hall disappeared into an open area, pillars holding up covered walkways on either side formed a pathway toward a large wrap-around that connected the two sides of the compound together. In the center of of the stone opening stood the Envy Demon. Dark clouds had covered the sky overhead, and there was a chill hovering in the air, accompanied by a light drizzle that instantly matted Amarantha's sunlight hair to her head. She glared, water dripping off her face, and stepped toward the demon.

"I touched so much of you but you were selfish," it hissed, "Now I'm no one."

"And that's how you're going to stay," Amarantha retorted, through playing around with this creature. Something had been wrong with the Lord Seeker; none of the council had denied that. But to see that _this_ had been what occurred, it was more than enough to further Amarantha's resolve. She'd agreed to help the Inquisition, but seeing this creature, knowing that it had taken someone's life, that it had intended to take _hers_? It was personal now. And she was going to make sure that nothing like this happened again.

The demon stood to its full height, causing Amarantha to crane her neck back to take in its whole frame. She'd once marveled at Bull's height, and they often joked with each other about their height difference, but this creature dwarfed even the Qunari.

Cole appeared beside her a moment later, drawing her thoughts away from whether Bull would have wanted to fight the demon because of its size or not because it was, well, a demon. "Dark and desperate; death to make yourself alive. I used to be like you," he said, standing firm with squared shoulders, staring down the demon fearlessly. "I'm not anymore. You shouldn't be either."

The demon laughed, uncaring of Cole's words, and struck.

The elf and spirit dodged the attack, and Amarantha called for the others behind her to join her in the fray. They did, fighting the large creature and all the smaller demons it summoned in its desperation to stop them. The rain began to fall harder, and they slid and slipped and stumbled in the wet, but the creature was no match, even with all its power, to withstand the freshly empowered Templars and the rage of the Herald, Cole, and Cassandra as they sought personal vengeance against the creature.

Finally, it fell in a heap around them, and when it screeched its last, it vanished, leaving nothing but a rotten stench and unhappy memories in its wake. Panting, daggers hanging limply at her sides, Amarantha stared at the spot where the creature had fallen, the only evidence of its presence a stain of blood where it had fallen at last.

"Dread Wolf take you," she said to the air. Then she turned, watching as even more Templars began filing into the open area, some of them injured, while others looked confused. They'd probably been imprisoned. Swallowing, Amarantha sheathed her weapons, and with one look to Cassandra, who nodded encouragingly, Amarantha stepped forward to greet them.

Barris stood at the front of the group, looking just as weary as she felt, but there was a pleased look in his eye, only slightly clouded by guilt and remorse.

"The Templars are ready to listen to the Inquisition's offer," he said, and a chorus of agreement echoed behind him.

"Then hear me," she said, addressing them all, but looking directly at Barris. "The Breach," she said, pointing behind her where the green rip swirled angrily in the grey sky, matching the green swirling at her hand, "Is a threat to us all. It is evil, corrupted. There was corruption here as well. You all understand what has happened to the Lord Seeker, and that this is only a taste of the evil that will seep into this land and taint all that is good. Your leader has fallen, but you do not have to share that fate; stand with the Inquisition. Rise to your true potential once more and help us face this evil that threatens the world. We are _all_ of us at risk."

There was a murmur of agreement once more among the men. Barris stepped forward.

"You speak great truths, Herald," he said, "But we desire to rebuild ourselves as well. Will the Inquisition support the Templars in return?"

It would be so easy to force them to serve. To make them pay for the pain and suffering the order had caused. But that was not what was in Amarantha's heart. She'd lived her life learning about the suffering of her own people, and to force another to serve would only lead to dissent. She had no need for servants. She needed allies. And the Templars had proven themselves as honorable people, even as their leaders had fallen to corruption.

"We work together," Amarantha declared, "The Inquisition and the Templars are allies."

"Then," Barris said, a great smile on his face, "Templars, will you serve willingly?"

A great cry rose from the ranks, and an alliance was forged, made stronger by the pain and horror witnessed on the once safe grounds of Therinfal Redoubt.

\-----------------

The arrival back at Haven was one to remember. Most people were ecstatic to learn that the Templars would be joining the cause, and Amarantha couldn't take a step once inside the fortresses' walls without being congratulated or hugged by someone. She took the gestures happily, if only due to her relief to finally be somewhere somewhat familiar, full of people she _knew_ weren't corrupted with red lyrium.

A report had been sent ahead of them, alerting Cullen and Leliana of what had taken place. Amarantha's report had been difficult to write as they camped the night after the events of Therinfal, but she'd told Cassandra, Varric, and Vivienne what occurred in her mind, which made it a little easier to write, but she felt no less foolish sending it in as an official report. The others believed her though, so she took comfort in that.

Josephine greeted them at the gates and, overwhelmed with a sense of relief she hadn't realized was simmering under her chest, Amarantha lunged forward, wrapping her arms around the ambassador who hugged back after only a brief moment of surprise. She'd read the report as well, and knew very well that her image had been used against the Herald. She apologized for it, but Amarantha laughed, telling the other woman that she certainly didn't blame _her_ for the Envy Demon's actions. Leliana greeted them a moment later, and the same response from seeing the spymaster took over the elf. She hugged Leliana who, despite not really liking to be touched, understood the motivation behind it, and allowed the girl her relief.

They spoke for a moment, surrounded by people celebrating, then Leliana motioned for them to follow her. "I know you must be weary," she said, "But we need to discuss the incoming Templars, if only for a moment.”

"Of course," Amarantha replied, trying to remember a time when she _hadn't_ been tired. But rest would come later. There were more important things to see to first. They entered the Chantry proper, and moved toward the war room. Josephine mentioned needing to fetch her notes, and Leliana opted to wait on her friend. Amarantha, wanting a moment alone, wandered into the war room. She stood in the quiet for a moment, allowing herself to breathe. Solitude wasn't a common occurrence in Clan Lavellan, but Amarantha had always craved these few small moments to herself. Usually those moments had been accompanied by her sister, when the girl had been old enough not to need constant looking after, but she was not here, and so Amarantha settled for a moment alone.

She'd never cared much for this room. Not for any specific reason; it was just a room. But she suddenly felt a deep attachment to the walls that surrounded her, an odd sensation for someone who had spent her whole life outside. Walls were bad, she'd been taught; walls trapped you. But here in Haven, the walls here spoke of safety, of alliance, of hope. She had a place here, odd and unusual though it was, and she had never been more grateful to be back.

She would make the most of it, she decided. No more taking things for granted.

She reflected on what Cole had said to her in her head. _No more locked doors. If I'm going to be here, if I'm going to fight for and with these people, if I'm going to die for these people....I need to unlock a few doors. I_ want _to let these people in._

"Oh, I'm sorry."

A voice behind her drew Amarantha out of her reverie and she turned, freezing with wide eyes when she saw Cullen standing there, a stack of papers in his hands. "I was just told you'd arrived," he said, as if he felt he had to explain his sudden appearance, "People tend to forget to tell me these things." He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so.

Had it been any other time, the joke would have caused her to laugh as well. Cullen wasn't the funniest person, like Varric or even Bull, but he always knew how to make her smile. Now though, all she could see was his neck ripping open, blood pouring out in rapid gushes. She wasn't sure why seeing Josephine or Leliana hadn't upset her, and even as she knew Cullen hadn't _really_ died, for some reason, the sight of him alive before her made her breath catch in surprised relief. She knew it was the demon; knew none of what occurred in her head had been real, but somehow, the relief at seeing him unharmed was an overwhelming sensation, one that guided her steps as she rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his midsection tightly.

Like the others, he was startled by the embrace, but wrapped his own arms around her, a gentle, reassuring weight on her back. "Herald?" He questioned.

"You're alive," she whispered, feeling foolish even as the tears welled in her eyes, "I know it wasn't real, what happened, but I'm so glad you're alive."

He tensed slightly, and for a moment Amarantha thought perhaps she'd said the wrong thing. But then he relaxed, squeezed her tighter, and said, "I could say the same about you."

She smiled at that. They stood for a few moments, only letting go when Amarantha heard the distinct footfalls of Josephine's boots on the floor. They parted, and soon the others joined them in the room. The meeting started, and they stood around the table, discussing the Templars, Cole, and what was next for the Inquisition. At one point, Amarantha looked up and accidently caught Cullen's eye. He stared for a second, then smiled softly before turning back to the map on the table.

Feeling her heart thud like a hummingbird's wings, Amarantha realized at that moment that she'd handed out her first key.

  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY. Last week was......hectic, to say the least. I was working with my husband in our garage and this poor stray cat literally crawled into the driveway, basically on death's door. We rushed him to the E.R. clinic and....lots of money and vet trips later, he's home with us, building up enough strength so he can be put under for surgery. His tail has a MASSIVE tumor on it and the poor guy is gonna have to have it amputated. 
> 
> His name is Inquisitor, by the way. Kudos to those of you who get why. ;-) 
> 
> Again, I am sorry. Taking care of our newest kitty has been the priority this week, but today things are calm. So, I'm going to upload a second chapter today to make up for missing last week. I just need to read over it and it'll be up. 
> 
> Also, Cullen’s joke about no one telling him anything stems from the fact that during my first play through of DA:I, I…..kinda forgot…..about Cullen. I was so invested in romancing Bull that by the time I was near the end of the game I realized that I hadn’t talked to him at all since arriving at Skyhold. (Same with Vivienne and Sera, but I don't like either of them so that was totally on purpose.) Not Cullen though. You can’t imagine how guilty I felt for neglecting the poor guy.  
> Now I won't leave him alone.


	6. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can home be in two different places?

Chapter Six: Fall

Amarantha sat at her desk in the room that had been assigned to her by Josephine the day she'd arrived at Haven five months prior. It had been decided quickly that due to Amarantha's status as both the Herald of Andraste - which meant 'heretic' to some - as well as her Dalish heritage causing a bit of strife among the less open-minded people, that she would be safest in the Chantry itself. This allowed her to be quickly notified of any urgent business and allowed her peace from the constant ruckus outside.

She missed sleeping outdoors, but a cold winter had set in, leaving snow blanketing the grounds. While she had spent years sleeping on such a surface, she had quickly adapted to her warm bed and blankets, even as a part of her yearned to be under the stars. She found a balance after a while, spending warmer nights outside while the cooler nights that left her chilled even under her fur blanket kept her under the roof of the Chantry. It was strange, sleeping surrounded by walls, no stars to freckle the night sky. She'd spent sleepless nights as a child trying to count the stars, and had taught the trick to her sister when the younger one had revealed to her at the tender age of seven her tendency to have strange dreams.

It was hereditary, it seemed.

This particular night had been another sleepless one, visions of the future that could have been making it difficult to find rest. Amarantha had tried praying, reading, and even sat outside for an hour counting the stars, but the chill of the night had sent her slinking back inside, defeated. Now she sat, quill in hand as she wrote to her sister, a lazy letter filled with nothing but idle thoughts and impressions on the people she'd met.

_You would adore some of them. I think you would like Josephine. She is always calm, even as she scurries about trying to make sure everything is perfect. It's like watching a bee, buzzing from flower to flower. We used to try to catch them, do you remember? You thought that you could convince the bee to rest for a bit, because it worked too hard._

_Though, I don't think Josephine would sting you, should you manage to catch her. But I’m not entirely certain._

_I should also tell you about some of the others, but I hardly know what to say about them. The Iron Bull - a Qunari, and a fearsome one at that! - is one of the more interesting ones. But how to describe him? It's impossible, my dear sister! He is merely a sight to be_ seen, _not read about._ _And to see him in battle! Think of the bravest warrior you have learned about in your studies. The Iron Bull is even more capable than them!_

 _And Varric is quite funny. He’s always got a story, and if you think the Dalish are greedy with their tales, Varric is like a dragon! He has tales about everything! And he’s always so willing to share. I could listen to him talk for hours. I_ have _listened to him talk for hours._

_And then there is Cullen. He’s a gentle soul, even as he commands the army here with a ferocity to rival the most fearsome beast. He’s hard but fair, and he always listens. I find myself enjoying his counsel….and his company. That latter part is disconcerting, to say the least. But not entirely unwelcome. And he is….handsome. I find that to be the most disturbing thing about him. He is, by human standards I understand, quite good looking. I suppose I’ve discovered a part of myself I did not know existed. Please do not tell mother and father._

_How are your studies going, my dear sister? I know it isn't the same since Grand-Mamae passed on, but when I left Mamae was doing a fine job. I miss her, Grand-Mamae. And Mother and Father. But I think I miss you most, my little flower-girl. I could use one of your flower crowns. They always made everything seem less troublesome, and right now things are_ very _troublesome._

_I won't burden you with details. But pray to the gods that this Breach is closed soon. I will be going to help close it. Today, actually. I cannot sleep out of nervousness, but I am confident that we will be able to close the Breach so that I may come home. I intend to, I think. There are other things at play here as well, but I think my usefulness will run out once the Breach is sealed._

_A small part of me does not want to leave, but a larger part of me longs for you. I miss my sister, my family._

_I do not know what to do. Perhaps your innocent prayers will fall on the gods ears and they will listen at last and they will guide me._

A light rapping at her door lifted her thoughts from the letter, and she dropped the quill to answer it. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders as Josephine had instructed she do for 'propriety's sake', and felt a slight bit of relief when she saw Iron Bull, Varric, and Cole standing at her door.

"Kiddo here says you're troubled, Boss," Bull said, looking like he hadn't been sleeping either. "Thought we might get you out of here for a bit."

"That would be lovely," she said, turning around long enough to pull on her boots. She rather liked them, she thought, one of the few non-Dalish traditions she'd adapted to quite easily. "What did you have in mind?"

"Warm, welcoming, soft. None of them do it quite like her, but an embrace without arms is still an embrace. It's another key, another opened door. No more locked doors. Elves shouldn't be behind locked doors."

Bull glanced at Cole warily, and Varric shrugged. "We’re working on that."

"He's helping," Amarantha said, smiling at Cole, and reached out to take his hand in hers. The boy smiled, glad to help, and they quit the Chantry and headed to Bull's tent, where they wrapped up in fur blankets and held candles for warmth and talked. Krem joined eventually, having been woken by Amarantha's piercing laugh at something Varric said.

"I'm sorry," the elf apologized, but Krem waved her off.

"I'd rather be woken by you laughing than by the Chief banging some bar maid again."

Ice-gray eyes widened, and Amarantha glanced at Bull, mouth slightly agape. Bull laughed.

"Like you didn't know that about me," he said simply. She couldn't argue with that.

"But you wake up poor Krem," she paused, "How on earth are you so loud?"

"Hey, it's not me," Bull said, holding up his hand, causing the whole group, minus Cole who didn't quite understand, to laugh.

They stayed there until the sun came up, when Cullen came out and found them all dozing. Amarantha was leaning on Bull, who had proven to be a truly magnificent pillow, and Cullen knelt down, eyeing the group in confused mirth to rouse her. She blinked, starting when she saw him above her, and felt her cheeks heat in spite of the cold.

"They want another meeting before we leave," Cullen said quietly so as not to rouse the others. “They began to worry when they couldn't find you."

"Coming," Amarantha said, thanking Cullen with a nod when he helped her up. She glanced at the group, noticing that Cole was missing. But Varric, Krem, and Bull remained undisturbed, Bull’s snoring a low and deep sound that echoed around them. They walked in silence toward the Chantry, the fortress quiet save for the stirring of some early risers like the Commander.

"I'm...how are you?" He asked. “Leliana says you sometimes sleep outside when you get restless.”  Amarantha piqued an eyebrow.

“Somehow I’m not surprised Leliana knows that,” she said with a laugh, “But she’s right. I sometimes find myself unable to sleep so I go outside. Last night Cole seemed to sense my troubles. I was writing to my sister, and I suppose my melancholy caught his attention.”

"I didn’t know you had a sister," Cullen said, ignoring her mention of Cole. Not everyone was comfortable with the spirit- as that was what he’d been determined to be- and Cullen was one such person who wasn’t certain how to handle Cole. He kept his opinions to himself, though that didn’t keep them a secret from Cole, but he said nothing and let the boy wander around the camp, helping people in his own peculiar way. "Are you close with her?"

"Very."

"Is she older or..."

"She's eleven," Amarantha said, thinking of her sister with a smile, "Twelve soon. And smart as can be."

"You miss her greatly," Cullen said with a tone of understanding and Amarantha sighed.

"Very much."

"I don't write to my siblings as often as I should," he said, and it was the first time he'd mentioned family in front of her. They'd spoken a few times since her unexpected hug the day she'd arrived home from Therinfal, but even then things had been light. She'd asked him about his life with the Templars, about what he did and why he left, but this felt even more personal. She was glad of it.

"How many do you have?"

"Two sisters and a brother," he said with a laugh that hinted at many childhood antics, "And we were a handful, I can assure you."

"Commander Cullen, handful as a child," she laughed, feeling a little delirious from nerves and lack of proper sleep, "I can't even imagine."

He laughed, "I may have.....grown up a little."

They reached the council room, and Cullen paused, his hand on the door as he stood for a long moment, head bowed as if he were trying to say something but lacked the courage to say it. Amarantha laid her hand on his shoulder, worried. "Commander?"

"I..." he lifted his head and then sighed. "Whatever happens today, I'm....I'm glad to have met you. You've done wonders for the Inquisition."

That was unexpected. Amarantha stared after the commander as he moved on inside the room. The job of Herald of Andraste was a thankless one to be sure, but she'd never done it for thanks. She'd done it to prove her innocence and later because she felt something in her heart, something that deeply agreed with the goals of the Inquisition. She wanted to make this world better, and she wanted to help those that sought to do it with as much goodness as possible. But she'd yet to be thanked for her work, not that she'd expected any such reward, but to hear that she was appreciated, especially from the Commander, meant a great deal.

Feeling renewed in a way that sleep couldn't provide, she went inside and made the final preparations for their next attempt at sealing the Breach.

Later that day, they stood at the temple. The Breach swirled and thundered before them, loud and looming and terrifying. Amarantha stood next to Cassandra, Bull, Solas, Varric, and Cole, all of whom had their weapons at the ready. Next to Bull stood Krem, who had insisted on coming as well, wanting to be there in any way possible to support the Herald. Amarantha had hugged him, thanking him for his help.

Behind them on the upper level that had once been part of a staircase stood the Templars, Barris and Cullen at the front. They nodded to the Inquisitor, ready to perform their duty. Amarantha nodded back, then stepped closer to the Breach. The mark on her hand, which had flickered and flashed violently since they arrived, now roared to life, encasing her entire hand in a green glow. Solas spoke behind her, addressing the Templars as she stared down the Breach.

"Focus past the Herald!" He cried, lifting his staff above his head, "Let her will draw from you!""

The Templars nodded, and with a gesture from Barris, they knelt to the ground, hands on their swords and heads bowed. Solas extended his staff to lend power to her as well, and Amarantha lifted her hand to the Breach. She felt a strange energy soaring through her, lifting her in its embrace and surging forth.

"Strong, wild, encompassing. Is this what the gods feel? It's too much, but I'm brighter, _more_. Pain, pressure remind me of what I'm not but I feel _so_...." Cole's voice whispered through the commotion around them, blending into the white noise around them.

The Breach surged, growing rapidly under the strain of the mark pressing against it. Amarantha felt the focus of the Templars guiding the magic, pushing it further where she lacked the strength. It was painful, too much power flowing through her at once, but she closed her eyes, called on her gods, and let forth the last of her energy with a desperate and furious shout.

The Breach vibrated, causing the entire area to shake, the reverberation echoed through the group, causing hair to stand on end and breaths to tremble. Suddenly the world seemed to still, and for a long silent moment it hung in the balance, unmoving and eternal. Then the Breach shuddered and imploded with a resounding _crack!_ and sent everyone flying backwards, landing in varying heaps around the temple.

Solas was on his feet first, running to Amarantha who lay face down in the rubble, the mark on her hand quiet. He rolled her over, and she blinked up at him, clearly in pain but pleased.

"You did it," he whispered, brushing an errant strand of hair out of her face.

"Good," she murmured weakly, cradling her hand to her chest, "Because I'm _not_ doing that again."

He laughed, then turned to the others. "She's all right!"

He helped her to stand as the Templars and others behind them broke out into a cheer. Above them, the sky still looked angry, but it was calm. Like any wound that healed, the sky would bear a scar from this, but at least the threat was over.

It was done.

Suddenly, Amarantha found herself hoisted into the air, landing with a thud on a broad expanse that turned out to be Bull's shoulder. He'd picked her up with no effort, an amusing notion in itself, and began to parade her around the temple, cheering for the Herald and the Inquisition.

Unable to help herself, Amarantha threw her head back, and laughed.

 

\----------------------

 

That same celebratory spirit carried itself back to Haven, where those who could not join them at the temple waited to congratulate the Herald and the Inquisition. The group was met with loud cheers, once more people clamoring to greet the Herald and congratulate her personally for all she'd done.

She felt the praise was worthy of all involved and not just her, but none of these people seemed to care, and her companions were just happy to have a moment of peace. They broke out casks, much to Bull and Varric's delight, and a band struck up their instruments, which led to many dancing around campfires while in the Chantry people prayed to the tune of the music, which was faint but still cheery.

Amarantha stood off to the side, clutching her swollen hand as she watched the happiness of others while she thought of her own. She thought about talking to Cassandra, to discuss her potential departure, but she wasn't quite certain how to broach the topic.

She'd had Leliana send the letter she'd written her sister the night before, hoping that perhaps her sister might insist on visiting Haven instead, which would put off her own decision to leave for a while. She missed home, but she had come to care for this place, and while she had never before considered a _place_ home so much as the _people_ she found that her heart both longed to go and to stay. It was a most troublesome feeling.

 _"_ How can home be in two different places?"

Amarantha looked up to see Cole standing there, his eyes peering into hers deeply, reading her. She didn't know quite what to make of the spirit's ability, but he'd helped her on more than one occasion, so she decided not to let it bother her. As he repeated time and again, he just wanted to help.

"How can home be with people who are mine, who I came from and yet be people that know nothing of me? Would they like each other? Can a child of the trees and grass exist inside stone?"

"All very good questions, Cole," she replied.

"I think you want to stay," he said softly, "Because you can help here. I'm like you. I want to help. But I cannot always do so. There are more than enough here to help."

"Very true."

"Small hand in mine; eyes like a mirror. 'I want to be like you', but what am I? She doesn't need me but she is my lifeline, my anchor. Such a small thing but such a heavy weight." Cole paused, "Your sister."

"Yes."

"She misses you, too. She sleeps with your letters tucked in her hand, waiting for the day when she can go to you or you come to her. It hardly matters which, so long as the place is the same."

"Thank you, Cole."

She glanced at him to ask him something else, but he was gone. She rolled her eyes, smiling affectionately at the empty spot. Amaryllis would like him, she thought.

"I would like her too," Cole’s voice said, but when she turned, Cassandra, not Cole was standing there.

"There you are," she said, approaching the elf. "I have been looking everywhere." She joined the Herald, then sat down, motioning for Amarantha to join her. "I thought you should let you know Varric has given you a nickname.” She rolled her eyes, a look similar to affection slipping across her features. “Apparently he's started referring to you as 'Petal'."

“Oh Creators,” Amarantha responded, shaking her head at the dwarf and his proclivity for nicknames. “It had to be a reference to flowers.” 

"Varric isn't always very original," Cassandra smirked as she looked out over the celebration. "But he tries."

“That almost sounded like a compliment.”

The Seeker grimaced. “If I ever compliment that dwarf, you’ll know the world is certainly ending.”

“Well, I just saved it, so please don’t get in any hurry.” The two women laughed at that, then lapsed into an easy silence before Cassandra spoke again, "Solas reports the heavens are scarred but calm. Many rifts remain, as do many questions. But those will come in time." She looked away, fiddling with her glove, "I know you have been considering leaving. I.....hope you do not."

"Cole?" Amarantha asked, silently throttling the boy for his interference. But he meant well, and that was what mattered.

Cassandra nodded, then shivered, clearly not used to the boy's presence. "Yes." A beat, then, "This was a victory. Word of your heroism is spreading."

Amarantha scoffed, "And here I thought I had help. Must have been my imagination. Yes, clearly I did all this alone."

Cassandra made a disgruntled noise, watching her friend out of the corner of her eye, "Don't get smart, Herald. You have done more than you know."

"As have you," Amarantha said, turning serious, "This was a victory for the Inquisition. I was just one part."

"You are far too humble," she said, "But I suppose I can understand why. You are right. _We_ did this. And _you_ should celebrate."

"I will," she said, "I just like to watch. And I wanted to think."

"I understand."

"I...think I might stay," she said at length, "I don’t know. I….will pray, and consider it for a few days before I make my decision. I miss my home, but I would never forgive myself if I walked away the moment trouble lessened. These people need help, need hope, and....It would be wrong to take that away, even as we enjoy a moment of peace."

"I am...pleased to hear that," Cassandra smirked knowingly, as if she held onto information of which Amarantha was not aware, "I know the others will be pleased as well. Especially our Commander."

Turning her head, Amaranth tilted her head in confusion. "What-"

Loud clanging interrupted her, and instantly the grounds went silent. A rumble vibrated through the ground, and the two women stood, alert and ready for action. People began to run toward the Chantry, and a messenger approached them, telling them they were needed at the gates immediately.

"It never ends," Cassandra sighed, and they took off, joined by Bull, Krem, Cole, and Vivienne. They reached the gates where Josephine stood next to Cullen, ringing her hands nervously.

"What's going on?" Amarantha asked when she saw Cullen.

"One of our guards reported a massive army coming this way," he said, "They're making their way through the mountain."

"Under what banner?" Josephine asked. Cullen turned to her and said simply, "None."

"None!?" She squeaked, and he nodded, then motioned for her to run to the Chantry. She glanced at the Herald, then took off, stopping to assist an elderly woman up the stairs as she went. She was not a fighter, and she would be more helpful keeping the people occupied and informed.

A thud hit the wooden doors at the gate, causing Amarantha to jump, turning to face them with her hand on her hilt. A voice from the other side shouted, "If someone could let me in I'd appreciate it!"

Glancing to Cullen, they ran toward the door, shoving it open to find a man on the ground before them, gripping his mage staff to keep him upright. He was dressed in a tan, fashionable outfit that looked like a simpler version of what some of the nobles wore on their visits, though it was wrinkled and damp with sweat. He was a young man, probably no more than thirty or so, and he stood with the aid of Cullen, throwing him a delighted but weary grin.

"I came to warn you," he said, huffing a breath as he tried to calm himself, "Fashionably late, though, unfortunately."

"Who are you?" Cullen asked.

"Dorian of House Pavus," the man explained, "And I am here to tell you, you're under attack. Though you probably figured that part out already."

"Who's attacking?" Amarantha asked, stepping closer. Dorian took a moment to look at her appreciatively.

"So you're the Herald," he said with a grin, "Cute." At her glare, he clarified, "I mean it. You really are as lovely as people claim. Let's hope you’re equally deadly with those daggers. You're going to have to be. The mages at Redcliffe," he said, pushing away from Cullen to stand on his own, "They're attacking. They're under the command of the Venatori, in service to something called The Elder One."

Cullen and Amarantha exchanged worried glances.

"Ah so you've heard of him," Dorian said, "Good. Less exposition on my part then. They're marching on Haven. I risked my life to get here before they did." He bent over and took another deep breath. "Clearly running isn't my greatest strength."

The man was charming, but now wasn't the time for appreciation of his qualities. Amarantha spoke, "Cullen, I need something. Now."

"If we are to withstand this, we must control the battle," he said, "We call it a fortress, but it is hardly such a thing. Use whatever you can," he said, motioning to the newly acquired trebuchets that sat at opposite ends of the wall. "I'll gather forces to help you."

"Right."

She sighed, then turned to Dorian, who stood waiting. "You, with me. We're going to fight some mages.'

He seemed to perk up at that. "I do love a good fight."

"Good," she said, unsheathing her daggers, "Because we're about to have one."

Behind her, her companion’s approached at the order of Cullen, weapons ready and hearts set on following the Herald.

"Who's the 'Vint?" Bull asked, sizing up Dorian.

"Someone I'm sure you'll love getting to know later on," Dorian replied with a wink, the feud between Tevinter and Qunari widely know, "But for now we have more immediate problems."

"Ser Dorian's right," Amarantha said. "We need to fire those trebuchets. Protect the soldiers assigned to them at all costs. We have to stop them.”

The group split up, Bull sticking with Amarantha and Dorian while the others grouped off to help man the other trebuchet. The fight went smoothly, the mages not standing a chance against the army of Templars and Inquisition soldiers. The trebuchets were launched, and what troops didn't make it to Haven to meet their end fell prey to the avalanche that rolled down the mountain side.

There was a moment of hope, bubbling up in Amarantha's chest as the thought of victory seemed to be in their grasp. It was there, a snowy white picture of success before them, but a moment later, a shadow passed overhead and a large creature that could only have been a dragon raced by, fire shooting forth from it's mouth as it passed.

"Shit," Dorian said beside her. Bull grunted in agreement.

"You can say that again," he said, "That's no regular dragon."

"Doesn't matter what it is," Amarantha snapped, furious that their moment of peace had been snatched from them. These people deserved a break. "Let's go."

They met Cullen at the gate, soldiers shutting and securing it behind them. "Commander," she said expectantly. He shook his head, eyes downcast in sorrow.

"Our only hope is to get everyone to the Chantry," he said, "It's the only building that might withstand whatever that thing is."

"Then split up," she said to those who had already gathered. Find anyone who hasn't made it yet. Get them to the Chantry. If you can't save them quickly," she swallowed, looked away, then forced out the words, "Then move on to help someone else. I want as many in that Chantry as we can manage."

They nodded, split up once more, and took off, calling out for survivors and fighting off the demons that had begun appearing, popping up like weeds out of the snow. Haven began to burn, the flames of the monster lighting the sky and replacing the once strange green with a deadly red. The groups ran, breaking down doors and cutting people free from traps that had caught them in the wreckage. Many were already dead, and Amarantha growled as she saw those helpless people laying in the bloodstained snow.

 _This Elder One shall pay,_ she declared, helping a limping Threnin toward the Chantry doors. Once everyone who could be saved was accounted for, the doors slammed shut, and Cullen helped two soldiers barre it.

Everyone looked horrible, worried, pained, and injured. Blood and ash made the air reek, and the sounds of children crying stung Amarantha to the core. Those that could were tending to wounded, and Dorian sat, holding Chancellor Roderick, who had been stabbed deep.

"Brave man," Dorian said softly, "He stood against a Venatori."

"Briefly," Roderick coughed, face wincing in pain.

Cassandra, Leliana, and Cullen appeared behind her, looking at Roderick, then turned their attention to Amarantha.

"Our position is not good," Cullen said. "That monster stole back any time you gained us."

"There are no negotiations, no demands," added Leliana, "They are merely attacking."

"That's because The Elder One takes what he wants," Dorian said from his position on the ground. "He wanted the mages, he got them. And apparently," he said, fixing his gaze on Amarantha, even as he held a handkerchief to try to stay the Chancellor's bleeding, "Now he wants you."

"Me?" She looked down, to the mark, which had begun to flicker once more. It still ached from the rough use earlier that day, and her hand was swollen still. "Well then perhaps I should go out and meet this Elder One."

"There are trebuchets turned toward the mountain," Cullen said thoughtfully, "We could make one last advance."

"That would bury Haven," Amarantha countered, but she knew Haven was destroyed regardless. She had just come to appreciate this place, and already it had been taken from her.

"We are going to die," he replied, "But perhaps we can decide how."

"Wait," Roderick spoke up through a wet cough. Amarantha sighed, in no mood to hear the man's complaints, even as he was gravely injured. "There is a path. Not everyone must suffer. You could get the people out. The women and children. Any who are not immediately needed. It is not a known path. I discovered it when I made the summer pilgrimage. Andraste must have shown me in our time of need. I think she wants me to help you."

"Will that work?" She asked Cullen. He nodded.

"Then Dorian, you help the Chancellor lead the people out of here. Everyone."

"What about your escape?" Cullen asked. Amarantha lifted her eyes to him, stern, stoic, telling. He understood, and stepped forward, taking her arms in his hands. "You _will_ escape," he said, but his voice was not unkind, "That's an order."

"Yes, sir." He moved to let go of her, but she reached up and caught his hand. "Tell the others. And, Commander..." she trailed off, looking away for a moment. _Don't lock doors_ , she thought to herself, and stepped closer and up on her toes, pressing a kiss to Cullen's cheek. He stared wide-eyed, as did Dorian and Roderick, but she paid them no mind as she yanked herself from Cullen's hold and rushed to the door, determined to meet the Elder One and show him what happened when he tried to hurt those she cared for.

Once outside, she rushed to the trebuchet. She heard a shout behind her and turned, startled when she saw Cassandra, Solas, and Bull. She opened her mouth to protest, but Bull just rushed past her.

"Can it, Boss," he said, "We go where you go."

Cassandra moved to her side. "I share the sentiment, but with a little more respect," she said, as they chased after Bull.

"Thank you," she said. Beside her Solas nodded his own agreement.

They reached the trebuchet, which was surrounded by demons. The four of them attacked, taking out the creatures. At length, the battle was in enough of their control that Amarantha signaled for Bull to ready the trebuchet, his strong arms much more capable of getting it turned in a hurry than her own. He readied it, then waited for her signal. The dragon flew overhead, letting loose a burst of flame that landed close to the trebuchet. Amarantha looked at the group, the creature in the sky, and the trebuchet. She had to make a choice, and if someone was going to go down facing this creature, it wasn't going to be the rest of them.

"Retreat!" She called, and the others took off obediently toward the Chantry. Amarantha followed them long enough for Cassandra to look back and be satisfied that she was there, then stopped and turned, ducking as the dragon breathed out another burst of fire.

"Here I am!" She called, voice hoarse, "Come face me!"

A burst of flame slammed the ground, and through the flames stepped a man. No, Amarantha thought, not a man. He was a demon, or at least he resembled one. He was stained red like the Templars, and his armor was a strange metal, black but glowing red from the lyrium's influence. His face was half formed, part of his skull missing and replaced with a hard red surface. It looked as painful as it did frightening. His eyes glowed red, the lyrium clearly dominating his entire being and he grinned evilly at her. The look sent a chill down her spine, and she hoped that the others had made it to safety. She looked at the fire that surrounded them now, courtesy of the dragon that had landed opposite them. No one was getting in or out of here, which meant the others had no choice but to run for safety and Amarantha steeled herself, standing tall as the creature called the Elder One approached.

 _Courage_ , she said to herself, _Courage. Creators be with me._

The Elder One stopped, staring at her, studying her. "So," he sneered, "They are calling you the Herald of Andraste. And yet you are still nothing more than a mere knife-ear." He let loose a blast of energy, knocking Amarantha back, but she caught herself and stood ready. "You toy with forces you do not understand. Fool."

"You wanted me," she said, ignoring his barbs, "Here I am."

"I do not want _you_ ," he spat, "I want what you have taken. I am here to reclaim my right. The will of Corypheus will be done." In his hands, bony, scarred, more claw-like than human, he lifted a circular object, and when he did, the mark on her hand charged and flickered. Corypheus smirked.

"The anchor is mine. The process of removing it begins now." He spoke with a resolute calmness that was unnerving. He did not shout, did not jitter or bolster. He merely spoke his intention with the calm rational of someone who clearly wasn't and with the strange power of the orb, lifted Amarantha's hand against her will. The mark- the anchor as he'd called it- flickered more, and pain shot through her with an intensity that rivaled that of receiving her vallaslin.

"You interrupted a ritual years in the making," he said, "You stole its purpose. I do not know how you did it, how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched', what you flail at rifts I intend to use to assault the very heavens."

The pain sent Amarantha to her knees and Corypheus laughed. "It is no more than you deserve for undoing my work. Foolish child."

"Fuck.....you...." Amarantha hissed, gripping her arm in agony.

Corypheus stepped forward, lifting her off her feet, his claw around her neck. She gripped at his arms, scratching at them in vain, struggling as he held her above him. "I once served the old gods. But no more. I found only chaos and destruction in their wake. They were not fit to rule. I have gathered the will to return from the nothing I once was to champion Tevinter and correct this blighted world."

"You are nothing like the gods," she choked, "The Maker, Andraste, my own. You are nothing like them."

With a sneer, Corypheus threw Amarantha, and she landed with a sharp thud against the trebuchet. She felt something pop, and cried out as her arm pulsed with a pain that wasn't from the mark.

"I have seen the throne of the gods," Corypheus cried, "And it was empty."

He tried once more to remove the anchor, and in her weakened state she could not stop him. He growled after a moment and ceased his assault on her. "The anchor is permanent," he hissed, "You have spoiled it with your stumbling. But I assure you, I will find another way; I will begin again and give this world the nation and god it deserves." His eyes narrowed. "And you will not be there to stop me."

Amarantha glanced around her, realizing that the trebuchet was still intact and ready. She had no way of pulling the lever, not with her arm in such a state, but on the ground, as if provided by providence, lay a stray sword. Glancing up at Corypheus, she lunged for the sword, twirled and cut the rope on the trebuchet.

"Maybe not, but you won't be there to try!"

The boulder hit the mountain side, and with a thunderous sound, snow began to slide down the mountain, rushing in a wave of white toward them. Turning on her heel, Amarantha took off running, praying as she did so. She heard the dragon screech, and looked over her shoulder long enough to see Corypheus move to it and be lifted above the snowfall. She continued to run, crying out to the gods, both Elven and to the Maker for help.

Suddenly the ground gave way, and Amarantha felt herself falling, followed by a sharp burst of pain that resonated through her entire being, and then there was nothing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter to make up for not posting last week! 
> 
> I know it seems like we're moving kind of fast....and it's because we are. No one wants to read a word for word remake of the game, and the canon divergence for ACOF comes later on, so I'm trying to develop Amarantha while also moving the story along to the point where things begin to change. 
> 
> I hope you're enjoying! I'll do my best to post on time next week.


	7. Unfaltering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition waits and wonders if the Herald survived after the fall of Haven.

Chapter Seven: Unfaltering

 

_Cold_. _It's so cold. I can't feel....and what I do feel I wish I couldn't._

Amarantha crawled her way through the cave, one arm cradled to her chest as the other pulled her body forward. Her leg was sliced at the thigh, bleeding and painful, too much to put pressure on at the moment. She'd torn her undershirt and wrapped the makeshift bandage around the injury, where a rather large splinter of wood still stuck out from the flesh. She dare not remove it. Not now. She crawled, eventually forcing herself to stand and walk, leaning against the wall for support.

It was cold and dark, the only light that of the mark on her hand. The Anchor, Corypheus had called it. She hissed in pain as the mark flashed wildly, but pressed on, ignoring the jarring in her arm and the throbbing in her leg.

Eventually she came to the end of the cave, where nothing but white and black met her vision. The world was cut in two, a dark night sky, where only a few twinkling stars appeared. The black melted to the white of the snow, endless as the ocean she'd once seen as a child. There was no choice but to walk. It was that or sit and wait to die, and Amarantha refused to do so; not after she'd survived Corypheus. She had to warn the others, had to tell them what had happened. Had to help them.

She walked, or rather limped, the wind blowing harder and harder with each step. The pain became unbearable, then eventually numbed itself to the cold. It couldn't have been good, she thought, to not be able to feel herself anymore, but at the moment it was better than pain, and so she forced herself to walk faster, praying to the gods that she might come across _something_. Anything but white.

_Please,_ she begged _, have mercy. Be with me._ She paused a moment, then looked up and spoke aloud, "Andraste, please help me."

It felt odd, wrong to pray to a god that wasn't her own, but so many believed that the bride of the Maker had hand picked her. Why shouldn't she try it? Perhaps she would be heard, and her timid prayer would fall on ears that lent to a compassionate heart, and she would be saved. Pressing on, Amarantha walked, stumbling every other step. In the distance she heard the sound of wolves howling, but they brought her no fear.

_Shall I pray to the Dread Wolf too?_ She thought, _Would he answer a heretic's plea?_

She said a quick prayer to the Dread Wolf, feeling more uneasy than she had when she'd prayed to Andraste, but decided she'd worry about it when she wasn't on the verge of death. And if she died, well it hardly mattered, because none of them would have heard her 

Walking was automatic, an unfeeling motion that was borne from the natural instinct to survive. Amarantha refused to lie down, to close her eyes, to give up, even as she was exhausted beyond reason. She would walk until she couldn't; she knew that if she were to stop, she would not start again. So she moved, and moved some more, and put one foot in front of the other, once, twice, a hundred times. She walked, blind from the snow falling so heavily, frozen and hopeless.

 

\---------------------------------

 

The valley in the mountains was a cold, dark place, completely inappropriate for an entire group of refugees to make camp. But so many were weak, injured, and afraid that it was ultimately without lack of other options that they stopped in the pass. Camps were set up, people were stationed with orders and tasks as appropriate, and when all was said and done and the people were sleeping - or trying to sleep - or merely wrapped in blankets looking off in the direction where Haven once stood, the council finally met.

Cassandra was oddly quiet, tears staining her cheeks as she brooded silently, arms crossed over her chest indignantly. Josephine wrung her hands together, and Leliana kept speaking to agents, demanding some word of _something_.

Cullen remained silent, sitting on a frozen rock with a hand on his cheek as his mind replayed the events of the past few hours over and over. He couldn't get the image out of his head, of Amarantha ordering everyone to safety, of the determined look in her eye that showed no fear as she turned to walk out the door to face certain death. The feeling of her soft lips against his cheek, still warm from the surprise and light pressure, no more than the wisp of a feather, against him.

She'd been behaving strangely since her return from Therinfal, though Cullen knew why. Seeing him slain had shaken her. She'd hugged him upon seeing him, though he'd learned that she'd reacted similarly to Josephine and Leliana as well. And her report had been full of horrors, the Envy Demon truly a thing of nightmares.

He wished he'd appreciated the gesture more. Now it was too late.

A small part of him, the part that clung to hope and belief that she really _was_ chosen by Andraste refused to acknowledge anything other than her survival. She would come round the bend any moment, weak and weary, perhaps cold and bruised, but alive. The rest of him, the part that was all commander and had seen this type of thing too many times before knew otherwise: she'd had no chance of survival. The moment she'd walked out of the Chantry she'd sentenced herself to death, even as her companions followed her. Cullen had been stunned to see them return so quickly, but Cassandra had instantly began seething in rage, slamming her fist into the walls of the tunnel where the people were slowly making their way out of Haven. She’d taken a few steps, then growled and hit the wall again.

"She sent us away and offered herself up like a lamb for slaughter!"

Varric shushed her, not wanting the people to hear, but it would quickly become obvious the Herald was not with them. Cassandra had leaned against the wall momentarily before shoving herself away and pretending the tears streaming down her dirt-stained cheeks didn't exist.

"We-" her voice broke and she swallowed then started over, "We have to keep moving."

They'd done just that, and now Cullen sat, cold, tired, despondent. The Elder One had wanted her, and he'd gotten her. She'd given the people a chance, but what good did that do when the only person who could stop the remaining rifts was gone? The Elder One still prevailed for the moment, but at least the people were safe, however fleeting that comfort was.

Looking up and around, Cullen watched those he had come to know well over the past few months grieve in their own ways. The newest  man, Dorian sat near the Chancellor, trying his best to keep the man warm and awake, though it was clear Roderick was growing weaker by the minute. Bull and the Chargers sat around a campfire, for once quiet and contemplative. They'd bonded with the Herald, especially Krem and Dalish. Bull, who was usually able to keep his expression neutral looked devastated, staring blankly at the fire, a stick twirling absently in his fingers.

Vivienne was busy helping the wounded, but there was a glint in her eye that couldn't be ignored, and Sera was huddled in a corner, head resting on her knees, shaking and muttering under her breath. Varric was helping soldiers hand out blankets and food, speaking quietly and trying to bring a smile to people's faces even as his own wore a deep frown.

Blackwall was silent as well, perched outside his tent, whittling absently as he looked up at the bright moon that offered light but little warmth. Solas stood at the edge of camp, staff in hand, staring off into the distance, as if trying to will her to them. He looked statuesque, unmoving in his silent vigil and Cullen was pleased to see that someone else wasn't entirely convinced the Herald was dead.

Cole, the strange spirit boy who unnerved some and frightened others, wandered around the camp, looking lost and pained. There was so much hurt, he hardly knew what to do. Cullen sighed; the poor boy would not be able to help everyone.

The council spoke softly, but he heard little of what was said. He couldn't shake his thoughts from the Herald, and something in him railed against the fact that he'd missed a perfectly good opportunity. He was confused by that notion, but he decided that now wasn't the best time to inspect it.

"We should continue," Leliana said weakly, making the tough decision no one else wanted to make. "We cannot remain here."

"We cannot force these people to keep moving so soon," Josephine protested, wiping at her eyes, "They are tired, weak. Mourning."

"But they are at risk," Cassandra said, her voice low, dull. "She wouldn't want us to risk their lives after she-"

Cassandra trailed off, and the others looked away, eventually settling on Cullen. They were undecided, and they looked to him for his council. Slowly, the Commander stood, his bones creaking under the cold. He glanced at the women before him, then around to the people, some watching them, some sleeping. Murmurs of prayers and the Chant of Light could be heard whispered over the cool whistling of the wind. Cullen glanced back at Solas, who remained rooted to his spot. Amarantha had been willing to die for them all. She'd walked out, ready to face the danger that loomed over the world, and she had done it willingly.

"Brave, beautiful. She's a light and a stone, lifting and holding even as she brightens and guides. Soft even as she's strong. Kind when so many wouldn't be. We can't abandon her. She didn't abandon us."

Cullen glanced over, startling slightly when Cole was sitting next to him. No one else seemed to notice the boy's presence, which Cullen figured was how he wanted it.

"I can feel her hurt," Cole said softly, "It's faint but it's beating, like her heart."

"She's alive?" Cullen gasped, voice squeaking even as he remained quiet so as not to alert anyone else to the conversation.

"Alive, dead, none of it matters because there's pain. Wishing for death but stretching towards life."

Faith seized Cullen, warming his heart and lifting his spirits with a determination that had been inspired by the elf they now waited for. He stood, noticing that in a blink of an eye Cole was gone, and he turned to face the council, who were watching him expectantly.

"We wait," he said firmly, "We wait for her."

Leliana looked like she wanted to argue, but her heart was not in it. "Very well," she said, looking to the others who nodded their agreement, "We wait."

Waiting was not easy, Cullen decided quickly. Waiting left time for doubt to sink in, for questions to rise, and for faith to shrivel like a dying flower in an unexpected frost. People were growing skeptical, desperate. They wanted answers, but the Council had none to give. Frustrations caused people to argue, and small issues that once would have been easily resolved were now large, lasting fights.

It was hard to believe it had only been mere hours since they'd made camp and decided to stay. Cullen was starting to regret his decision, but he held onto what Cole said, that she was alive. They'd sent out a few scouts to search, but within the hour they'd returned saying the snowfall was too thick to properly see. Feeling hopeless, Cullen marched to the edge of camp where Solas alternated between standing and sitting, and knelt down beside him.

The elf greeted him with a nod, then turned back to face the canyon from where they'd come.

"You've been here a while," Cullen said, flicking at some snow.

"Someone must watch for her," he said simply.

"Mind if I help?"

"Two sets of eyes will see more than one, I'm sure."

They sat in silence then, watching the white specks of snow fall, sparkling against the night sky. Neither spoke for a long time. They watched the blankness before them which offered nothing but snow and darkness. Aftera while Josephine brought them blankets and tea, which Solas held in his hands but did not drink. Cullen drank silently, grateful for the warmth that soothed his frozen insides. A couple hours later the Iron Bull came and joined them in their silent vigil. Cassandra followed not long after, and then Krem, Dalish, and Cole too. They sat, quiet at the edge of the camp, looking out into the nothingness before them, waiting.

“It’s cold,” the spirit whispered, “Inside, it’s cold.”

“People are mourning,” Solas murmured to the spirit, “And mourning is not a warm feeling.”

“She wants warmth. She’s so cold. As cold outside as they are inside.”

“We should go out there,” Bull murmured, shifting in agitation. Cullen shook his head.

“If we go out there, our chances of coming back are almost nonexistent.”

“Sure as hell beats waiting here.”

“Leliana has sent scouts. They were unable to make it far. That was several hours ago and the snow has only increased since then,” Cassandra added, “I am the first to want to run out there, but we must be here if she finds us.”

They resumed their silent vigil, when suddenly Solas scrambled to his feet. His breath hitched, and the others were on their feet in a moment. Cullen stepped forward, straining his eyes to see, and then there, though the solid darkness that stretched out before them, was a figure, small and slow, but there.

Cassandra cried out, "It's her!" And like that, Cullen raced from his spot, the others following in hot pursuit. There she was, swaying on her feet before them, ice crystals hanging from her hair and lashes, her clothes white splotched with an ugly red. Cullen reached her just as she collapsed, and he caught her, sinking to the snow with her limp in his arms. "Amarantha?" He said, and he heard a moan, weak but audible, and he laughed deliriously as he thanked the Maker.

“Cul-”

“Shh,” he silenced her, “It’s alright. I’m here.”

Cassandra and Solas began calling for Mother Giselle and blankets, while Bull and his men rushed to a nearby tent to clear it out and prepare it for her. Cullen stood and ran behind them, trying not to jostle her too much, out of fear of what may have happened to her. She whimpered in his arms, but he did not slow down. She needed care and warmth, and she needed it now. Despite his focus on getting her the care she so clearly needed, Cullen couldn’t help a thought racing over and over in his mind: _She's alive._

Alive, but _cold_. Mother Giselle spent over an hour examining her, but eventually it was understood that the best they could do was to keep her warm and pray for the best. Her arm had been splinted, and her leg cleaned and wrapped, but beyond that there was no real way of knowing what else was wrong until Amarantha woke, and so the group set up a watch to keep an eye on her while she rested.

Cullen had taken the first watch, but Cassandra, Cole, Bull, and Krem had all expressed a reluctance to leave, and so they all huddled together, cramped in the tent, surprisingly and somewhat unpleasantly warm thanks to the small contained fire that Dalish had created to help fight off the chill that lingered on the small woman.

Krem laid his head against Bull, and after a time Cassandra did the same. Cole was unusually quiet, his focus entirely on Amarantha. Cullen wondered if he was trying to help her somehow, like he had when she'd been trapped by the Envy Demon. Bull toyed with a small knife he'd pulled from his boot, twirling it around his fingers expertly, watching the blade move around and around as he waited. Eventually Krem stood to stretch his legs and fetch some tea, and Dorian slipped in to replace him,genuinely concerned about the elf girl who had faced down the crazed magister He didn’t stay long, but his visit was appreciated, and soon Varric replaced him, leaning against Cassandra who surprisingly said nothing about it.

Cullen's watch had ended some time ago, but he'd not made any effort to leave, and no one was going to force anyone else to leave the Herald's side. Josephine slipped inside for a while, sitting at the Herald's feet, her hands resting in her lap. Bull eventually crawled out of the tent, his large body needing to stretch after so many hours huddled up close.

Varric followed not long after, and Cullen motioned for Cassandra to stretch out, which she resisted, before eventually agreeing that it would be helpful. She laid down and before long she was asleep too. Blackwall and Vivienne came in, but didn't stay longer than an hour, and then Varric came back to take his official watch, accompanied by Dalish. They sat in silence, Cassandra steady breathing the only sounds in the tent. Amarantha’s breathing was shallow and quick, but otherwise quiet. Outside there were sounds of the general bustle of a camp, but inside here was a quiet sanctuary.

Solas lingered outside the tent, finally making his way inside after most everyone else had come and gone. He sat at Amarantha's head, his hands resting on her cheeks, which were warmer now  than they'd been. Under his touch, Amarantha shivered, murmured something breathless and Elven, then stilled once more. Cullen looked at Solas curiously.

"What was that?"

The elf shrugged. "I merely touched her.. I do not know. Perhaps she is dreaming."

They fell back into silence and after a while Solas reclined, going to the Fade to see if perhaps she had made her way there. Alone with her for the moment, Cullen stretched out his hand and slid it under the blankets where her own slender hand rested at her side. She was warmer, but there was still an edge of chill to her, and Cullen rubbed her hand in his, blowing on her fingertips as he watched her. He was so tired, and his shift had ended hours ago. But he couldn't bring himself to leave her. Not now that she'd defied the odds and was back. There was still a chance that she wouldn't wake. But Cullen shook his head, chastising himself for even allowing that thought entrance. She'd made it this far, he reasoned. There was no way she would make it to them only to succumb now.

As if hearing his thoughts, Amarantha stirred, and when Cullen glanced down, he found himself looking into weary ice-grey eyes. His own breath caught in his throat and he squeezed her hand. "Thank the Maker."

She blinked and a delirious grin spread across her lip. She tried to take a deep breath, but stopped short. A look of pain passed over her, and Cullen was on his knees at her side in an instant. She was struggling to sit up and he assisted her, waking Cassandra and Solas in the process.

“Can’t-” she gasped, “Breathe.”

Varric was out of the tent in an instant, Dalish with him as they sought Mother Giselle or anyone who might be able to help. Cassandra rose to her knees to come to the side of Amarantha, and the elf flailed an arm out frantically, which Cassandra caught. Her hand tightened in the Seeker’s almost painfully but Cassadnra said nothing. Solas sat up on his knees, coming to sit on the side opposite of Cassandra.

"Calm yourself, Da'len," he said soothingly, "Shh.” He turned to the Commander, “She is panicking.”

She tried to take another breath, but it was cut short and she cried out in pain, yanking her hand out of Cassandra's to press on her chest. "Shh," Cullen said from behind her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her back to his chest. He placed his hand over her own, and leaned down to her ear, "Breathe with me," he instructed. He took a shallow breath, and Amarantha followed, then exhaled when he did. He did that several times over, slowly breathing deeper each time. At a certain point, she couldn't breath deeply with him, and he heard her wince in pain. He rubbed her shoulder, and Solas rested a hand on her leg, soothing with his presence, and Amarantha began to calm, taking slow, shallow breaths with Cullen.

Mother Giselle burst into the tent, falling to her knees at Amarantha’s feet. "What's the matter?" She asked, and Solas spoke up, allowing Cullen to continue breathing with her.

"She awoke, and is having trouble taking breathing," Solas explained, "She began to panic; Cullen is calming her down."

"Good," Giselle said with a nod, "Continue that, please." She then directed her attention to Amarantha, "I am going to ask questions," she said, "I want you to squeeze my hand for a 'yes', and do not squeeze for 'no'. Do you understand?" She gently took Amarantha's hand away from her chest, and placed it in her own. Amarantha squeezed.

"It hurts to breathe?" Giselle asked.

A squeeze.

"Can you take deep breaths?"

"Shallow ones?"

A squeeze.

"Does it feel like a burning sensation when you do breathe?"

Another, harder squeeze.

"I want you to try to speak. Simply say your name."

She tried, but all that came out was a raspy, gargled sound. She stopped trying, swallowing thickly as a look of pain shot over her features. She took a breath, aided by Cullen, and shook her head. "Hurt-," she whispered, the word slurred and pained. 

Giselle nodded and released her hand. "It's as I feared," she said. Both men in the tent and Cassandra regarded her worriedly.

"What do you mean?" Asked Cassandra impatiently.

"She was in the cold too long. It was a harsh wind and snow. Her lungs are damaged. I have seen it before," she said as she moved back. "She needs rest; no talking. And we must keep her warm. Bring her warm tea; not too hot, but warm enough to soothe. She will be unable to breathe well for a time, but with rest and care, she will be well again."

Amarantha nodded, too tired to question, and slumped against Cullen, who noticed her breaths were short and sharp, but still there, which was enough for the moment. Every other breath or so, she would tense in pain, and Cullen rested a hand on her forearm, squeezing gently to comfort her.

"She has been through much," Giselle said, "We should let her rest."

"I will stay with her," Cullen said firmly, and no one bothered to argue with him.

"I will find  tea," Solas said, moving toward the front of the tent.

"And I will alert the others," Cassandra said, "And begin talks of what we do next."

Cullen nodded, his focus going back to the elf in his arms. She was alive, and would be on the mend soon, and for the moment that was enough.

Varric was waiting outside, hands fiddling with his gloves. “Well?” He asked as Cassandra appeared behind Solas, who had raced off without even a glance at the dwarf.

“She’s alive,” Cassandra said softly, “And in great pain. But Andraste has brought her back to us.”

 

\---------------------------

 

_She was warm. That's how she knew she was dreaming. That and the fac_ t _she could breathe. She recalled trying to breathe before, but where her body once had naturally moved, suddenly it had seized up, the air she so desperately craved stopped short of her reach. Pain had burst in her chest, agonizing, sharp, and burning, but now she was fine, and she knew that she was not awake. She couldn't be._

_She was used to her dreams feeling real, more so than what they should. This one was no different, but she knew this time that she was not awake. She was standing in a forest, one of the many places her clan had traveled through over the years. She didn't know where she was exactly, but she remembered feeling at peace here._

_Her sister had played with her in these woods: giggling, silly girls, careless as they ran away from Amarantha's instructor to play rather than learn how to properly wield a dagger. They'd run to the edge of the wood, where on the other side of a dirt road that bore the signs of great use was a human town. They lingered at the edge, watching for signs of the round-ears._

_They'd been caught not long after, dragged back by a frustrated elder who had thrown them down at their mother's feet, proclaiming that a girl nearing the age of receiving her vallaslin should know better than to behave in such a way._

_Her mother had promised a strong reprimand, but had merely waited until the elder was gone to shake her head at her daughters and send them to their grandmother, who grinned at them as she sat knitting from a spindle of sheep's wool, and made them help her as she told them a story of her days as a young girl roaming the woods._

_"I didn't have a sister to make mischief with," she said, "But if I'd had, we'd have been unstoppable." She paused and focused her gaze on her granddaughters, "Together, you two will be so. The world will stand no match against you." There was a knowing twinkle in her eye, then she'd gone back to telling them more tales, and said no more of her claim on their destiny._

_Amarantha walked on, seeing the image of their grandmother as vividly as if she were sitting next to her. The woman had a kindly face, slight wrinkles marring mischievousness in her that lingered under the surface, a_ wi _ld streak that she had worked tirelessly to impart to her granddaughters. "Your mother," she would sigh, "I tried to hard to bring her up right, but she is far too stubborn. Gets that from her father."_

_"Tell us about him!" Amaryllis said, sitting up on her knees, eyes wide and lips pouting in that childish way._

_"He was a wonderful man," Albiza sighed wistfully, "So kind and loving. Stubborn as could be. Willful."_

_"Did he die?"_

_Albiza shrugged, "I do not know his fate," she sighed, "He left before he even knew of your mother. I was a dalliance, you see. One meant to last but.....the gods did not see fit to let us alone."_

_"Do you miss him?" Amaryllis asked softly. Albiza nodded._

_"With every breath I take. I would have given up everything for him. But alas. We were torn apart. Ripped from each other so carelessly."_

_"It isn't fair," Amaryllis pouted, hating that the story ended so sorrowfully. Albiza leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her granddaughter's hair._

_"Little in life is," she said, "Take comfort. I have your mother, and now I have the two of you. I see so much of my love in you both."_

_"You never tell us his name," Amaryllis said, "Why won't you?"_

_"Oh Dread Wolf take me with your questions!" Albiza laughed, then sobered. "I do not say his name because it hurts too much to say. I hope you never understand, child, but there will be a time when you cannot speak a name because its very sound can shatter you."_

_The sound of strange voices caught Amarantha's attention, and she turned away from her family to see who was there. Blinking, Amarantha thought the voices sounded familiar and when she opened her eyes_ _once more, she understood why._

Mother Giselle sat next to her, humming softly to herself. She smiled at Amarantha but did not speak, continuing the soft, relaxing tune. Over her softness was the sounds that had drawn Amarantha from her sleep. She could make out Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine, arguing just outside the tent. Their voices were loud, but not yet at screaming levels, and Amarantha sighed, wincing when pain in her chest prevented her from taking a deeper breath.

"They have been at it for hours," Mother Giselle said. Amarantha groaned.

"Why?" Her voice was hoarse, raspy, and it hurt to use it. She swallowed with effort, and moved to sit up. Giselle helped her, letting her rest on a pile of pillows at her back. Her arm was still wrapped close to her chest, and she tried wiggling it a little only to feel a bit of pain.

"They have that luxury," she said simply, "Thanks to you." She paused and then said, "You were muttering in your sleep. Do not speak, but I hope your dreams were pleasant.

Amarantha thought back to her grandmother, who had left them over a year before and shrugged weakly.

"I see," Giselle said, shifting in her seat to better face Amarantha. "Well, we have time," she said, "The enemy could not follow and now that we are here, doubt begins to grow, as does blame."

"Corypheus," Amarantha asked suddenly, ignoring the pain it took to speak, "Where-?"

"Rest your voice," Giselle chided softly, "And we are not sure where we are. But there has been no sightings of this Corypheus."

Outside the council argued, shouting at each other, growing more heated by the minute. Amarantha sighed to the best of her ability. "Yelling…”

“They will reach a decision soon,” Giselle said, “For now they must get this out of their system. Once they finish fighting, they will band together and make a decision.”

"Can’t stay," Amarantha said, hand pressing to her throat as she struggled to speak,

"They know. And when they have calmed, you may tell them as much." She paused, then added, “Or, I shall tell them for you. Rest your voice.”

Amarantha nodded, and they sat, listening as the yelling continued. Growing tired of it already, Amarantha sat up further, bending her good leg under her. "May I...ask….something?"

"Of course," Giselle said affectionately, and it reminded Amarantha of her grandmother so much that she thought she might weep. "But then silence. I mean it."

"Do you think... I'm chosen?” She wheezed, “By Andraste?"

Giselle was silent for a long moment. "I think I saw my Herald fall and come back to us. Many view that as an act of her providence. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions seem. And the more our trials seem ordained."

"I....prayed...." Amarantha admitted after a moment, "To my gods. And to yours. I don't know who saved me."

"Perhaps you need not choose," Giselle said, "Perhaps you are the bridge between worlds, meant to align us and unite us."

"Corypheus said," she paused, and Giselle handed her some tea, which had cooled but still soothed her throat. When she finished drinking, she continued, "The throne of the gods was empty."

"I do not believe that." Giselle was firm, fierce, unwavering in her resolve. It comforted Amarantha.

"I don't either."

Giselle smiled. "Then Corypheus will not stand a chance. Now. Silence."

Outside the shouting had ceased, but the eery quiet was more disconcerting than the shouting. Motioning to Giselle, Amarantha tried to stand. Giselle helped her, and let the smaller woman lean against her. She limped outside, Giselle holding her upright with an arm around her waist, stopping to lean against a post. She looked out over the camp. Few noticed her, but those who did looked upon her with reverence. The council was spread out, all looking away, frustration dripping off them. Amarantha watched them all silently.

_Creators, Andraste, anyone. We must not break apart._  

With a gentle pat on her good arm, Giselle stepped forward, and lifted her voice in song.

 

_Shadows fall, and hope has fled_

_Steel your heart_

_The dawn will come_

 

_The night is long_

_And the path is dark_

_Look to the sky_

_For day soon_

_The dawn will come_

Voices began to join in, one by one, uniting together until the entire camp was of one voice. Many moved to where Amarantha leaned weakly against the pole, bowing to her. Others stood with their hands over their heart. Looking around, she saw that Cassandra and Josephine had bowed, and Cullen stood, hand over heart singing as well. He smiled at her, and she felt a warmth gently tug on her.

Nearby Bull and the Chargers stood, and though Bull did not sing, likely because, like herself he did not know the words, but his hand was braced on his chest, and he tipped his head in a nod to her. Her gaze continued as the song grew louder, and she felt soothed, wrapped in the invisible arms of _something_ , and it was calming, peaceful, and full of love.

Her gaze met Solas' in the crowd, and the elf stood tall, a smile on his lips. His eyes gleamed with pride, all directed at her, and he mouthed, "Well done, Da'len," to her. She ducked her head in response, showing respect for the older elf, then turned back to face the people, who had fallen silent at her feet, watching with anticipation.

"The Inquisition still stands," she said softly, the words burning in her throat. "We may be weak and unsteady," _Like me_ , she thought, "But we will heal, and we will not falter again. This world belongs to us all; let us take back what Corypheus has tried to steal from us!"

The people lifted their voice in a great shout and the despair that had lingered over the camp lifted, and was replaced by a joy that made the air seem not so bitter.

The night went on, people turning to joy, and the band that had played at the celebration at Haven pulled out their instruments once more, and the people began to celebrate. It was better than the stiff quiet and uncertainty from before, and it was a welcome distraction from the pain Amarantha felt over her entire being. She sat with Cullen who looked after her attentively, and Bull sat on the other side, a large shield against the cold.

Enjoying some hot tea, Amarantha smiled even as she struggled to breathe while Krem and Stitches arm wrestled, more for entertainment than anything. Just as Krem won, Solas approached the group, looking directly at Amarantha.

"May I have a moment?"

She nodded and moved to stand, but two hands, one much larger than the other, gripped her shoulders and gently edged her back to her seat.

“We can walk easier than you, Boss,” Bull said as he stood, “Don’t overdo it. You still gotta lead us out of this shithole.”

With a curt nod to Solas, Bull left, but stayed close by to watch, surrounded by his team. Cullen hesitated, but finally moved as well. He remained close by as well. He’d yet to let her out of his sight since she’d stumbled back to camp.

Solas sat beside her, taking Bull’s seat and used his free hand to adjust Cullen's fur cloak around her small shoulders. The cloak was far too large but incredibly warm. He’d given it to her almost the moment she sat down next to him, earlier, insisting that she use it as he didn’t need it as much as she. She could smell him on it, his scent light and comforting. Solas glanced at her knowingly and she blushed and looked away.

"He's quite pleased that you're wearing it," Solas said with a sly grin, "And I don't have to be a mind reading spirit to see that."

"Because one mind reading spirit is plenty," Amarantha said, trying to deflect the question. "I hope you didn't make my shield against the wind leave just to tease me about our Commander."

Solas smirked. "No, of course not. I wanted to speak to you of the orb. Do you remember it?"

She remembered all too well. He had used it to try to pull the anchor from her, and the mark sparked as she thought of it. The two elves looked down at her hand, wrapped in a sling. She nodded.

"It is elven," Solas said simply. Amarantha blinked.

"What!" The squawk made her cough which hurt her further. She winced and cursed, but took a shallow breath and calmed herself.

After making sure she was all right Solas continued, "I believe he used it to open the Breach. I believe that is what caused the explosion at that destroyed the Conclave." He paused, "I do not know how Corypheus survived. Nor do I know how people will react when they learn of the orb's origin."

Amarantha scoffed, "Angry at us." She couldn’t offer much at the moment by way of conversation, but Solas sensed her sarcasm and annoyance all the same.

“Yes. I hope that is not the case. You are a truly gifted young woman, and the people respect you. You have done well."

"Thank you," she said, squeezing his hand. "How do you know about the orb”"

"I have seen similar before," he explained, clearly grateful that she even thought of such questions, let alone actually asked them. "Foci, used to channel similar magics. I have seen old memories of older magicks in the Fade."

"That’s amazing."

"If you wish it, I shall teach you someday," he said, "But there are more pressing matters at hand. Like where you shall lead these people, for instance."

Amarantha glanced back at the rows of tents and crowds of people. Some were talking, others dancing. The Council sat closest to them, a few of them watching the elven exchange. Amarantha glanced back to Solas. She shrugged, then gestured with her hands to indicate if he know of anything, she was willing to hear it. 

He grinned, as if he'd been waiting for just that moment. "I know a place we can go."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! And thank you for reading! 
> 
> Next chapter: The Inquisition searches for a new home.


	8. Foundations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition fins a new home and a leader is named. Amarantha has a revelation.

Chapter Eight: Foundations

 

The world was white. Snow surrounded them at every turn, the mountain pass covered in the near constant snowfall that had rained on them since their arrival five days before. It had taken some time before Amarantha had been up for walking more than a few feet, and even then she had to lean on someone or something to make the journey. But she had stood firm in front of the council, adamant that they not linger. Corypheus was still a threat, and they could not leave so many people open and vulnerable.

Solas had stood by her, united in her insistence, and it came as no surprise when Cullen was the first to relent. Cassandra followed, and soon after Leliana and Josephine agreed. They would make the three day hike to the lost fortress of Skyhold, a place that had stood the test of time and seen kingdoms rise and fall in its wake.

The journey was a slow one. There were still many injured from fleeing Haven, Amarantha included. She had been grieved to hear that Chancellor Roderick had not survived, and she whispered a prayer for the man who had proven not so bad after all. He'd been a hard man around the edges, sharp and sticking, but he'd come around. He'd started to believe, and that meant more to Amarantha than she could truly comprehend. She did not need the man's approval; she'd never sought it. But to know that he had finally started to view her as more than a Dalish heretic made her glad, though she wished she could have had a chance to speak to him one last time before his soul had gone to rest.

Such thoughts distracted her from the pain of walking, and so she dwelled on them a little deeper than was probably wise. She was awkward in her steps, relying on Solas' staff to help balance and support her. Cullen's pauldrons still lay upon her shoulders, heavy and warm and comforting, though a little large. She flushed for reasons other than warmth, and thought about the man. She cared for him, she realized. It was more than an infatuation, more than a simple childish admiration. She _cared_ for him. She cared for the others too, how could she not? In this trying time they had all banded together and found that they fit as well as links on a chain, holding each other firm and strong. There was a camaraderie there, even as they disagreed and argued. They all sought the best course for the people, and all cared about the best for each other.

But with Cullen, it was more. She found herself worrying about him. He'd been in her thoughts as she'd faced Corypheus, and if she were honest with herself, deeply and truly, she would have no choice but to admit to herself that _he_ had been part of what kept her going. Seeing him again had driven her onward almost as much as anything, and she faltered in her steps as the understanding that she _wanted_ him overcame her.

He was no elf; he knew very little about her race and her culture. But he accepted her. He treated her with a kindness and respect that went beyond that of her role as the Herald of Andraste. He took care of her, seemed to worry about her too, if Solas' teasing and Josephine's sly comment about how the 'poor Commander never left your side' were anything to go by.

And after this brush with death, after facing Corypheus and almost falling to the cold of the world, Amarantha thought perhaps it didn't matter about the uncertainties that she felt. She'd nearly died. He could die. The world could perish. What was the use in saving the world if she wasn't willing to live?

That thought was stopped short by the feeling of being swept up in the air. Panic seized her for a moment, then she looked to see the Iron Bull holding her in his arms like her father carried her as a child, a big, toothy grin on his face.

"What are you doing?" She laughed before stopping short, her throat burning. She paused, pressed her hand to her chest and took as deep a breath as she could.

"Carrying you, Boss," he said, "What's it look like?"

"I get that," she whispered, adjusting so that Solas' staff rested on her stomach, the crystal tip  under her chin, "Why are you carrying me?"

"Because you have tripped over yourself at least six times in the past ten minutes," Dorian said, coming to stand on Bull's left, "The least the big ox could do is help you."

"Hey! I resemble that remark," Bull said with a cheerful grunt. He glanced down at Amarantha, who was biting her lip to keep from laughing. "Anyway, you've been pushing yourself too hard, and you could use a break."

"I've done nothing but sit or sleep for three days," she protested hoarsely, "I need to carry my weight."

"You almost _died_ ," Dorian said, "I'd say that deserves at _least_ a couple miles of being carried." He paused, thoughtful for a moment, then said, "On that note, I _did_ risk my life to warn you of the impending attack. Perhaps someone should carry me for a mile or so as well!"

Bull huffed, "How about you carry yourself?"

"You're no fun."

Rolling his eye, Bull glanced down at Amarantha, "And you stop talking. It's obvious it still hurts."

Amarantha smiled and mock saluted Bull in response before resting her head against his shoulder, deciding that protesting would be a fruitless endeavor anyway. The Qunari was stubborn, and if he wanted to carry her, he'd carry her. Not that she minded. The break _was_ appreciated.

She managed to convince him to let her walk after a few miles, but the next day she was right back in his arms. She smiled, waving at Josephine as they walked side by side, and the other woman laughed, telling Bull that if he had room for one more, she'd love to join her friend for a break.

It seemed to take forever, but finally, _finally_ Solas, who had been at the front of the line leading the way ran back to her, telling her that they were nearly there. Amarantha glanced at Bull and he gently lowered her to her feet. Solas handed her his staff once more, then took her arm and helped lead her up a steep hill that flattened out to a rocky ledge. She leaned against the staff and looked ahead of them, mouth sliding open as she took in the sight before them.

It was a grand fortress, larger and more impressive than Haven had ever been. It brought to mind the fortress of Therinfal Redoubt, but even this seemed to dwarf the Templar's old fortress. Towers peaked through clouds, the wall surrounding the buildings stood tall and imposing, but there were large spaces in which the wall had taken severe damage which could be seen even at a distance. It was a strong place, a large, beautiful place, with more than enough room for all those who sought its sanctuary.

It had been built out of the stone from the mountain, sitting like an island in the midst of a vast, white nothingness. A long stone bridge linked the island fortress to the pathway below them, and despite the pain, Amarantha wanted to _run_ to the fortress in her glee.

"Solas," she whispered, ignoring the burning in her throat, "This is...."

"Skyhold," he said just as reverently, "Once a place for the elves, it was taken by Fereldan." He paused, looking pleased, smug. "Now once more an elf shall sit at its throne. I believe it is no mere coincidence that the escape from Haven led us here."

Mother Giselle's words came back to her, when she'd said that it seemed their trials were more ordained. Could it be their triumph's were as well? This fortress had belonged to the elves; an elf had been chosen and proclaimed the Herald of Andraste. Surely it all could not be coincidence. Had she truly been chosen by this? By Andraste? By her own gods? It brought a warm comfort to her to think that perhaps the gods had not forgotten them after all.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, "It's perfect."

 

\-----------------------

 

Skyhold was many things, Amarantha thought as she limped through the gates and onto the courtyard. It was as she'd said, beautiful, perfect, but it was also in great disrepair. That fact did not dampen her spirits, and she moved forward, slowly and carefully as she took in the sights around her. It was even grander on the other side of the wall. There was little snow, most of it sitting on the rooftops of the fortress. There were numerous rooms on the inside, a place for stables and merchants. There was a large garden in the back, that could be turned into something of true beauty, as well as a place to grow more food. People could work here. Repair the structure, tend to the land. There was a building to the west that would serve as an infirmary, and the tavern was still completely intact.

_Small favors, I suppose_ , Amarantha thought as she saw a few soldiers, led by Bull, make their way to the tavern. Shaking her head, Amarantha limped forward, lowering herself carefully on the bottom step of the staircase that led to the main building. It had been hell walking up the first set of stairs, and she needed to rest. She was annoyed that it was taking her so long to heal, but she knew that pushing herself would do little to help the process. She felt breathless, and thanks to the burning in her lungs that feeling was intensified. She longed to breathe deeply again, to feel her lungs take in air, full and whole once more.

"So much to do, so much. I should help but I can't help them if I don't help myself."

"Hello, Cole," she rasped, tilting her head to look at the boy.

"You can't help them if you can't help you," he said, "No one will think less of you for resting."

"I know," she said, "But I cannot stop simply because I-" she paused, swallowed with a wince, then sighed. "You're right."

"Of course I am," he said simply, innocently. "Breathing is important."

She took a slow breath. "I know."

"Did I help?"

She smiled, "You always do."

"I want to help others; some people don't like that."

Amarantha shrugged, "Not everyone will. You're different, and people don’t like that. But I'll talk to them."

"When you can breathe."

"Yes. When I can breathe."

The boy nodded, flicked the pauldrons she still had draped around her shoulders with a crooked grin and then vanished. Rolling her eyes, she stood and moved to lean against the stone wall that looked over the lower level, her attention on the soldiers and refugees, watching them work and carry supplies. the injured, and debris in and out of Skyhold. Cleanup was already underway, thanks to the dedication of Cullen and Josephine staying on top of things. Amarantha continued to watch, focusing on her breathing, then raised a brow when she saw her council members gather together under one of the tents near the bridge. They spoke for some time, and on occasion, one of them would look in her direction.

Having no idea what they were discussing, but feeling a distinct edge of unease, Amarantha considered making her way over to find out what was going on. That plan was ruined when Sera appeared, two mugs in her hand.

"Tea for you, ale for me," she said as she leaned against the wall next to Amarantha "So Herald, we got ourselves a nice ol' fortress here, yeah? Big enough to take down ol' Cor-iffy-tit."

Amarantha lifted her mug in silent response, then took a sip. It was sweet, far sweeter than the tea Solas made, but she choked it down, focusing on the pleasure of the hot rather than the strange taste of honey in tea. She was not used to sweets, something she'd never had as a girl. She didn't mind them, but they were often too strong for her taste. She had become fond of strawberries, a treat she'd not been exposed to as a child. They had just enough bitterness to them to make them palatable for her, and she suddenly had a craving for them. She'd have to see if they could grow some here.

"It's crazy, innit," Sera continued, "All this....Cory-shite nonsense. I mean, if there's a throne, then there's a butt to go in the throne, and suddenly, all this shite is real. Like, really real. So real it's ridiculous. I'm not about all that. I just want to help people, not get involved in some wannabe-god's grand chess game. I don't even like chess!"

Amarantha smiled at that. She didn't get along with Sera often, but the girl did have one point. This stuff _was_ real; she'd faced it down. And she knew just how real it could get. Sera thankfully did not have to suffer the things she'd seen, and with any luck the girl could go on without that worry on her shoulders.

"So long as you help, stay to fight chess-playing gods or simply help 'people'," Amarantha said, "Your personal reasons are your own."

"You not gonna make me bow down to some elven god and swear allegiance, then?" Sera teased.

"Well, now that you mention it...."

Sera leapt away, splashing ale in the process. "Okay, Herald, that's enough of that, yeah? You rest up. We got plenty o' shite to do and just 'cause you got all banged up by what's-his-dick, doesn't mean you get to slack off now." She stuck her tongue out playfully, then turned on her heel and draining her mug. "Though, don't work _too_ hard, yeah? We need you alive more than we need you hauling broken slabs o' stone. Got them good ol' farm boy soldiers for that shite." With a wink, Sera moved on, leaving Amarantha to her tea.

Amarantha glanced back to the area where her council had been, brow creasing when she realized they were gone. Only Cullen remained close by, leaning over a table with several stacks of papers and a makeshift map. He was gesturing to the agents and soldiers around him, giving orders and handing letters to scouts who bowed and turned to leave.

Without allowing herself time to think, Amarantha placed her mug on the stone wall and pulled off the Commander's pauldrons. She recalled how she’d tried to give them back to him during the hike to Skyhold, but he'd insisted she keep to help keep her warm. He’d been adamant and it had been so sweet that she’d been unable to refuse, though it had caused several telling looks to pass her way from varying members of her close party. Cheeks flushing, she approached slowly, her limp throbbing from overuse as she waited until only a couple soldiers remained and she cleared her throat, the sting making her wince as she stepped up to Cullen.

"I-" she started, hating how raspy and awful her voice suddenly sounded to her, "I wanted to thank you. For this. And...everything." She held out the warm fur in front of her and Cullen reached out to take it, his hand brushing hers as he did so. Her breath hitched and she silently chastised herself for behaving so foolishly. She was a grown woman, a valued hunter of her clan, and the Herald of Andraste. She knew better than this. Her sister would be excused for such silly behavior; but not her. She squared her shoulders and pulled her hands away slowly, watching as he reattached the pauldrons to his armor.

She wondered absently if it smelled like her now.

"How are...how is everything going?"

Cullen glanced at her, eyes full of regret. "We set up as best we could at Haven, but we were never prepared for such an attack," His arm lifted to the back of his neck where he rubbed absently, "With some warning we might have-"

 "We did our best," Amarantha interrupted, "And we can do no more than that."

"Yes," he agreed, turning to rest his hands on the table. "But if Corypheus strikes again we may not be able to withdraw," he paused then added, "And I wouldn't want to. We must be ready."

"We will be." She glanced around, "Things seem to be going well."

"Soldiers have temporary quarters; the infirmary is set up. Guard rotations are in place. I've already got some work on Skyhold being planned. Things should begin to run smoothly within the week."

"Good," she said, and it was. Things ran smoothly, even without her. She felt the familiar pang of uselessness suddenly, and she glanced at the mark, which was wrapped in a bandage to keep her arm from moving too much. Her hand was still swollen, she could feel it, and she flexed her fingers cautiously, nose wrinkling when it hurt.

Looking away from her hand her eyes trailed over the people in the courtyard, working and finding their way around. "How many did we lose at Haven?" She asked softly.

"Most made it to Skyhold," he said, turning to watch the people as well, "We were....lucky. Blessed. Take your pick."

"I-" she paused, biting her lip. It was foolish, but after everything, she felt it important to say. "I'm pleased you....made it...and all the others as well," she added on at the last moment, "But I am glad you're...here..."

She had to be imagining the slight pink that colored his cheeks as he turned back to acknowledge her. The Commander surely didn't blush. But he looked down, then back at her, and smiled. "I am pleased you...." he paused and a frown darkened his features, "You stayed behind," he sighed, weary, "You could have- you almost...."

"But I _didn't_ ," she said, giving him a soft smile. He nodded, and let out another deep breath, almost a sigh of relief.

"But you didn't."

She stood for a moment, wondering if she ought to address the kiss she'd given him, and feeling foolish for even needing to bring it up, when Cullen coughed slightly, and gestured behind him. "It seems you're needed again, Herald," he said.

Looking over her shoulder, Amarantha saw Cassandra standing close by, hands behind her back as she waited expectantly, rocking on the balls of her feet. Nodding, she gave one last smile to Cullen, whose own expression hinted at his knowing exactly why Cassandra was waiting for her. It must have something to do with their earlier discussion. She limped her way over to Cassandra, who put her arm around the elf's waist to allow her some relief.

"We have come far," she said, her thick accent giving the words an elegant shape as she spoke, simple and direct, "And we have walls and numbers. But we need more to stand against Corypheus." She led Amarantha up the stairs toward the main hall, a place she had yet to visit due to her leg. Cassandra aided her, and they moved slowly.

"We also know what drew Corypheus to you in the first place."

"The damned mark," Amarantha hissed, "Fenedhis."

The Seeker looked amused. "Perhaps," she agreed, "But it is more than that. Your decisions have led us this far. You have stood where others would have faltered. Your determination is an inspiration to people. Your kindness draws them in. Your compassion reminds them that those in power can and _do_ care."

It was startling to hear. She had not thought herself so useful; she had recently lamented on that very fact. But Cassandra believed in her, thought her more than a mere elf with a mark. They reached the landing, and Amarantha signaled that she needed to rest. Cassandra let her lean against the stone railing.

"The Inquisition needs a leader," she continued, "And we all agree on who that should be."

Amarantha waited a moment for the name, but then blinked, taken aback when she realized that Cassandra was staring pointedly at her. "Me? An elf? A _Dalish_ elf? Are you certain?"

"You have led us to this point," Cassandra said, matter of fact, "And you have not led us astray. I would not be asking you if the others did not agree it the right choice. We all will follow you, just as we have been."

Something was rising in Amarantha. A feeling of fear, of uncertainty, but in the midst of that was a feeling of purpose. Her grandmother had always said she would do more, would be more, and what more was there than this? She felt pride, awe, gratitude well up in her, the understanding that she was valued, that she could _do_ something. It meant more than she knew how to express.

"I do not want to put you on the spot," Cassandra said quietly, "But if it's something you would consider-"

"No," Amarantha said, lifting her hand to stop Cassandra who looked at her with confusion.

"No?"

"I don't need to consider," she said. As with approaching Cullen, she would not allow herself time to doubt. Her heart pulled her, and she would follow. "I accept _._ If you believe in me, then I would be wrong in saying no." She paused, then added with a small grin as she recalled what Solas had said when they first laid eyes on Skyhold, "An elf will stand between Corypheus and the world."

"And there is no one else I would rather follow," Cassandra smiled. She turned, motioning with her hand, and Leliana stepped out of the shadows, a large, ornate sword resting in her hands. Amarantha balked at the sight, realizing they weren't waiting to make the announcement official.

Behind her, people began to gather, courtesy of Josephine and Cullen. Oblivious to the gathering crowd, Amarantha stepped closer to Leliana who stretched out her hands in front of her. "For you," she said gently, winking at Amarantha. The elf grasped the sword, its weight making her hand shake almost instantly. She wasn't used to such a large or heavy weapon, and her current weakened state made things even more difficult. But she held fast, and turned, sword upright in front of her, glancing at Cassandra, who was standing at the edge of the landing, addressing Cullen.

"Have our people been told?" She asked, then stepped back to escort Amarantha to the edge with her. Cullen, who was at the front, that same sly grin on his face, replied.

"They have."

"Will our people follow?" Cassandra cried, and Cullen turned to face the people.

"Inquisition, will you follow?" He repeated. The people let out a deafening cheer and Cullen continued, "Will we fight?" The same cheering followed. "Will we triumph?"

Again the people roared, and Cullen drew his sword, directing it up toward the landing where Amarantha stood. "Then I present to you, your leader, your Inquisitor!"

Slowly, Amarantha lifted the decorative sword, her good arm stretched toward the sky. She shook, but she refused to lower it, and a smile spread across her lips as the people broke from cheering to crossing their hands over their hearts and bowing. Cullen and Josephine, who stood next to him bowed as well. Amarantha lowered the sword, pressing the sharp edge against the stone of the landing and looked out over those who had pledged themselves to fight alongside her.

"This doesn't seem real," she whispered in awe.

"But it is," Cassandra said, "And you will do well...Inquisitor."

With that, Cassandra knelt as well, hand pressed over her heart, leaving Amarantha to stand, looking over the people who had pledged their allegiance, and their lives to her. Her grip on the hilt tightened. She would not fail these people. She _could not_ fail these people. She had managed to survive Corypheus once, had pushed her way through the most painful and lonely days of her life to reach them once more, and she still stood, perhaps weary and weak, but she _stood_. And she would stand until the end, at the front line, for elves, for men, for the world.

 

\----------------

 

Someone, though no one knew who but for which Bull was given all the credit, declared it time to celebrate the appointment of the new Inquisitor. Work was put off until the next day, and the people chose to spend their first night at Skyhold feasting and celebrating.

So much had happened in the past twenty-four hours, Amarantha thought as she made her way slowly up the stairs to the main hall, where she sought a little peace from the revelry taking place below. She entered the hall, stopping short when she saw Cullen, Leliana, Varric, and Josephine talking amongst themselves. Spotting her instantly, Leliana stepped forward, and gently guided Amarantha toward the group and Cullen grabbed a chair, dusty and dirty and wobbly, but still intact for her to sit. It was touching, how everyone simply helped without her even asking, knowing what she needed and being there to provide it. She once again thanked the gods for the support that she had garnered in her time amongst humans.

"We have news," Leliana said, "And it's convenient that you arrived when you did. We have some things that must be brought to your attention, Inquisitor."

"All right," Amarantha said, the title strange and a bit overwhelming, "What is it?"

They took turns telling her what information they had received about Corypheus. Contrary to the rumors that had been spreading in the ranks, Corypheus was not aligned with Tevinter, though he sought to restore it to its former glory, no easy task according to Josephine. They were looking into the dragon, feared to be an archdemon, and some more regarding the Empress whom the Envy Demon had sought to kill was presented.

"It's all so much," Amarantha said, "But we need more. More information. We cannot be left ignorant of his intentions. I want answers."

"And that's why I'm here," Varric chimed in, uncrossing his arms as he stepped forward, "Congrats on the promotion, by the way."

Amarantha grinned, "Thanks, Varric."

"No problem, Your Inquisitorialness," he said with a slight bow, then he grew serious, "But I have a contact, an old friend. I've already sent her a message - must have been all the inspiring talk outside that made me even remember she could help. But she's crossed paths with Corypheus before. She might know something that we don't."

It was a relief to have so many people with so many connections, Amarantha thought. Truly, she may have been named the Inquisitor, a title that was still foreign on her tongue, but she had so many people to help lift her. She would be nothing without these people who had once been so strange, but now were almost family.

"The more allies the better," she said, "Introduce us."

"I will," Varric said, lifting his hands in a gesture to lower her voice, "Just not here. When she gets here, I'll let you know, but she'd probably....rather not be noticed by a lot of people." At Amarantha's unconvinced look Varric sighed. "Just trust me, please. It's...complicated."

"Very well," Amarantha said, "We'll meet in private."

"And don't go telling everyone about this either," he said quickly, "Wouldn't want word of my patriotism to spread, now would we?" He winked then exited. Turning back to the others, Amarantha pulled a face.

"Was that odd? Or am I...?"

"No, it was odd," Cullen agreed, "Though Varric's always been.....dramatic."

"That's one way of putting it," Leliana laughed, "Though I know one thing. If he's bringing who I think he's bringing, Cassandra is going to _kill_ him."

"Who is it?" Amarantha asked, utterly confused.

 "She's an old friend," Leliana explained, "One who would have been a great asset much sooner in this war."

"I take it Cassandra doesn't like her?"

"Oh, it's not that," said Cullen, "It's _Varric_ , she doesn't like. And this will piss her off even more."

Groaning, Amarantha let her head drop into her good hand. “Great.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you are enjoying it! 
> 
> I just finished the first draft of chapter 33. Coming back to reread this part is just so strange. A _lot_ has happened. 
> 
> Next chapter: Cullen and Amarantha play a game; Amarantha gets some bad news.


	9. The Games We Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amarantha learns to play chess.

Chapter Nine: The Games We Play

 

Skyhold was aptly named, if Amarantha had anything to say on the matter. The fortress was a wondrous sight to behold, but the view from the battlements were what kept drawing Amarantha. Being built on the side of a mountain offered few perks, but the sight of the snowy peaks all around them was certainly on the top of the list. In the weeks that followed their arrival, Amarantha had found herself on the battlements or her own personal balcony staring out over the white cotton sky, mountains peeking through the clouds like a child peering out from behind her mother's skirts.

 

It was on those battlements with the sun shining high and the mountains wrapped in clouds like a blanket that Amarantha met the illustrious Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall. They had discussed Corypheus, and Hawke's knowledge proved greatly valuable. Amarantha liked the woman, thought her strong and brave and pretty, and Varric seemed to share a similar opinion.

 

Cassandra did as well, though it was hard to tell when she was swinging her fists at Varric for keeping Hawke's location a secret. Hawke and Amarantha had intervened, Hawke leading Varric away for his own safety and Amarantha soothing Cassandra, trying to make her understand Varric's perspective. She agreed with Cassandra that Varric should not have kept the information secret, but she saw Varric's point in not being told _why_ Hawke was wanted. He merely wanted to keep his friend safe.

 

The two reconciled, for lack of a better term, but it was clear in the stiffness of their handshake that there was a new rift in the world, and this one was going to be much more difficult to close.

 

Dorian proved to be a decent distraction from the shaky truce between the Seeker and the dwarf, and Amarantha found herself seeking out the mage more frequently, grateful for his advice and unusual perspective, being an outsider much like herself. He told her of his life growing up, and of the differing beliefs between Tevinter and the rest of the world. It was strange that so much fighting could stem over what seemed like trivial matters.

 

She'd also come to terms with her feelings for Cullen. She liked him, and it was with a great relief that she was able to think that without flurries of guilt and uncertainty shrouding her. Though she had made no move to inform him of such information, she felt much more at ease with the Commander, especially now that she knew her own heart and was no longer at war with it.

 

\----------------------

 

One surprisingly warm evening, Amarantha decided to slip away from her duties as Inquisitor and take a walk. She had received a letter from her mother, who had been furious at her for being so foolish as to risk her life, but her sister had expressed nothing but awe and wonder at the tale. She had tried to write back, but could not think of what to say. There was so much going on now, trips to the Storm Coast and the Hinterlands and the Exalted Plains, but there was really nothing of _substance_ to share. She traveled, more now that she was mostly healed. Her voice was almost back to normal and her breathing only gave her the slightest trouble when she ran too far or fought a little too long. The work didn’t end out there, however. Upon her returns to Skyhold came battles fought with paperwork, which seemed even more endless than the hordes of demons they faced.

 

On top of that, others demanded her attention as well. Solas was finding shards and artifacts that he wanted her to examine with him, and it seemed that everywhere she turned, someone was asking her for her time, and despite the fact that she reveled in being so productive, being so helpful, she couldn't help but crave the solitary moments she'd once sought after back at her clan. She dare not sneak away now, her maturity and her position both bringing on the understanding that she could not just sneak away from the world, but everything was so loud, so constant, that she decided that a quiet stroll through the gardens might give her the peace she so desperately sought.

 

Wandering aimlessly, Amarantha closed her eyes as she walked, enjoying the slight breeze that managed to slip its way through the towering stone barrier of Skyhold and wrap around her. It called to mind days spent running through the woods with her sister and other children in her clan, and she felt a deep longing for those days. She would not give up the life she had stumbled into now, but the days before had been simple, easy. Or, easier. Nothing had ever been purely simple, she reckoned, but there had been no false gods clamoring for the total domination and destruction of the world.

 

It was always something, it seemed.

 

She wandered through the garden, where workers were busy planting and tending to the crops. Smiling as she watched one worker tend to the small patch of strawberries, she continued walking, her attention getting caught by a distressed shout. She glanced over to where the sound had originated, brow creasing as she caught sight of Dorian and Cullen sitting under the gazebo, their heads bent over the table between them. Wondering if perhaps they were planning some sort of battle strategy, Amarantha wondered over, curious as to why they were sitting out in the open working.

 

When she reached the gazebo, she noticed that they were not working after all, but rather playing a game. She's seen the pieces before, but she knew next to nothing about the game itself. She stood for a moment, arms crossed and watching silently. A moment later, Cullen moved a piece and smirked as he sat back, then quickly jumping to his feet when he finally noticed the Inquisitor standing there. Dorian looked up but merely smiled at her, then glanced down back to the board.

 

"Inquisitor," Cullen said, "We were just-"

 

"We're slacking, and she knows it," Dorian said dryly, "Now do hush so I can figure out my next move, Commander."

 

Cullen glanced at Amarantha uncertainly, and she shrugged and knelt down, resting her arms on the edge of the table. "Are you playing nice, Dorian?" She asked with a grin.

 

"I'm _always_ nice," he said as he moved a piece. "There. Your turn."

 

Cullen slid back into his seat, cast a glance at Amarantha, then turned his concentration to the board.

 

"Now, my dear Inquisitor, I want you to watch carefully, and see just how bad the Commander is going to feel when he loses to my brilliance."

 

"Oh?" Cullen said as he moved a piece. "Because I just won, and I feel fine." He leaned back in his chair, letting his hands rest at the back of his head. He wore the most prideful smirk Amarantha had ever seen, and she realized she liked seeing him when he was at his best. His awkward fumbling around her was endearing, but this was the man she admired: confident and at ease.

 

Dorian, for his part, took defeat as gracefully as he did everything. He lifted his hands in surrender and stood. "Don't get smart," he said, "You've humiliated me in front of our dear Inquisitor, and now I must retreat in my shame."

 

"It's hardly humiliating," Amarantha said, but Dorian was on a roll. He threw his hand over his eyes and looked away, trying to hide his smirk.

 

"No, I am undone. I am ashamed. I have failed my Inquisitor and now I must go." With that, he rested his hand on the back of her neck, giving a gentle and friendly squeeze, nodded to Cullen, and walked away.

 

Rolling her eyes at his antics, she turned back to Cullen, who had watched the whole display with an amused and befuddled smirk. "I'll never understand him," he said, shoulders shaking as he chuckled.

 

"He's certainly a character," Amarantha agreed, standing. Cullen rose with her, hands behind his back.

 

"I should probably get back to work," he said, before pausing as if he'd realized he'd said something stupid and added, "Unless you'd like to...play?"

 

Amarantha glanced at the board, then back to Cullen. "I don't know how to play."

 

His face fell slightly. "Oh."

 

"But-"

 

"I could-"

 

They stopped, Amarantha biting her lip as both stopped short as the other had tried to speak as well. After a moment Cullen spoke up, "You were going to say something?"

 

She nodded. "Yes," she replied, "Um...perhaps you could teach me?"

 

Cullen seemed to brighten up at that. "Yes. Here, sit."

 

She took the seat previously occupied by Dorian and watched as Cullen reset the board. He then picked up each piece, and told her what it was called and what it did. She listened intently, often repeating his instructions to make sure she understood them. He showed her a few example plays, and then when she felt comfortable, they began to play.

 

She noticed quickly that Cullen took his time, studying the board and carefully choosing his moves: a true commander and strategist in all things. She mimicked him, studying the board and sometimes even copying his moves when she couldn't figure out what to do. Cullen seemed to notice and laughed.

 

"I did the same thing, when I first learned," he said, causing Amarantha to look up from the board to him, "My sister was a tremendous player, and she would _always_ win. I would copy her moves on occasion, just to see how her mind worked." He smiled wistfully as he leaned back, remembering days when he and his siblings had played together. It had been so long since those days, and he felt a strange bittersweet nostalgia for them.

 

"I was determined to beat my sister," he said, "I practiced with my brother for weeks. The day I finally beat her was," he shook his head, "One of the best days of my childhood. Oh, the look on her face!"

 

"If she was as good as you say, I'm sure she was quite shocked."

 

"Oh, she was!" Cullen laughed, "Grumbled about it for at least a week."

 

"You've mentioned your siblings before," she said, leaning forward to study the man across from her, “You said you didn’t write to them often. Has that changed?”

 

"I’m afraid not,” Cullen laughed sheepishly. "I confess I'm rather awful about keeping up with them. Seeing you always writing home makes me wonder why I don't just set aside the time to do it. I know my parents must be worried sick."

 

"Why don't you make time?" She asked, curling her legs up into the chair to make herself more comfortable. Cullen shrugged.

 

"I don't really know," he said, "I think of them all the time, but I'm not very good at....writing. I don't know what to tell them, don’t know what they'd like to hear, and so I put it off. Tell myself I'll wait until I'm not so busy, but I'm _always_ busy it seems, and it just gets....pushed aside."

 

"If you like, I'll write to your family," she teased, "Tell them their you are completely useless when it comes to writing letters and so I've taken on the challenge of telling them interesting stories about their dear Cullen." She snapped her fingers as an idea formed, "Oh! I know! I'll make up some amazing story about how you single-handedly faced down some great demon: no sword, no armor; you took it down with your bare hands!"

 

Cullen laughed, "I think you'll only succeed in making my mother rush here and drag me by my ear back home," he said, "That or you'll send her into a nervous fit!"

 

"I would make sure to tell her that you came out of the battle unscathed!" She countered, "I couldn't possibly injure you in your own heroic tale!"

 

"But then it wouldn't be believable," Cullen said, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, "And I'm quite certain you want this to be believable."

 

"I've read some of Varric's tales," Amarantha said, "And _none_ of those are believable. They still work, though."

 

"I thought you were writing a letter to my mother, not planning on becoming a best-selling author!" Cullen's sides were beginning to ache as he laughed. Amaranth's face was flushed red as she giggled.

 

"Well if I get a good enough reaction from your family, perhaps I'll write to Varric's publisher. I'll have to create an alternate name," she mused, her finger resting on her chin thoughtfully.

 

"Or you could leave matters to me," he replied through a laugh, "I'm not sure I want you writing to my family now, if all you're going to do is cause chaos."

 

"I'm not causing chaos!" She argued, "I'm merely....embellishing your accomplishments, Commander."

 

"Oh, is _that_ all?" He asked, shaking his head. He stopped short after a moment, then looked up at her with surprise lighting his eyes, "You know, this must be the longest we've gone without discussing anything related to the Inquisition," he said, "It's....nice."

 

Feeling her cheeks heat for a reason other than laughter, Amarantha nodded. "It is," she agreed, "We... should spend more time together."

 

Cullen's eyes rounded at her words, but he nodded instantly, "I would like that," he said, glancing down in what could only be described as boyish nervousness. "We've forgotten about our game," he murmured, "Was it my turn?"

 

"I believe so," Amarantha said, "Though we both know you're going to win, so it hardly matters."

 

"You don't know that," Cullen said, wagging a gloved finger at her, "You could be more savvy than you're letting on. Perhaps that entire bit about letters was a ploy to distract me so you could win."

 

"Exactly," Amarantha said with a roll of the eyes, "I rearranged the entire board to my favor."

 

"You say that sarcastically," Cullen said as he slowly lifted a piece and moved it up and over one space, "But Dorian has actually tried that. More than once."

 

Hand covering her mouth to hide an undignified laugh, Amarantha said, "Did he _honestly_ think that would work?"

 

"Apparently so," Cullen said, watching as Amarantha uncurled her legs and leaned forward to ponder her next move. She moved a piece, and Cullen instantly took it, which caused to Amarantha to glare at him.

 

"That wasn't nice," she said, pouting at him playfully. Cullen merely smirked.

 

"Perhaps not, but it's how you learn," he said. Amarantha looked at him through narrowed lids and huffed.

 

"Fine," she said, picking up a piece and putting it in a spot where one of Cullen's pawns sat. "I can do this, right?"

 

Cullen bent over to study the move and nodded. "Indeed you can," he said, "Very good."

 

She puffed out her chest a little at her small success, and took the chess piece into her hand, examining it curiously as Cullen contemplated his next more.

 

"There are so many things I don't know," she sighed as she looked at the carved marble, "Though I'm not entirely pleased about _why_ we all came together, I'm glad that I've had the opportunity to learn so much about the rest of the world." She ran a hand through her hair, left loose and hanging in long strands over her shoulders. "The Dalish value their history so much. I do as well. But there is so much more to know." Looking back at Cullen she said, "I learned that there is another Divine....a man.... in Tevinter. Leliana has taught me all about Andraste. The Iron Bull explained a little about the Qun," she paused, then added, "Did you know they don't marry under the Qun?"

 

"I'd heard that," he said, "But I didn't know it was fact."

 

She nodded, "And Varric tells me about the dwarves sometimes," she said, "There's so many different cultures, so many different types of people. I sometimes wondered as a child what I might be missing by staying with my clan, only memorizing the tales of our people. It’s important and I certainly am not belittling my race, but the world is so.....vibrant! So colorful. So many different ways to see the same thing, so many different ways to experience life. And yet people fight over the most trivial of them. I’m grateful that all of us can get along so well and yet have been brought up so differently."

 

"If a person is willing to have an open mind, it’s possible," Cullen agreed, "Though not all of us are so eager to see the world as you do, unfortunately."

 

"It's sad," she lamented, "But I understand. Most Dalish are taught only about, well, the Dalish. We meet every decade to share stories and histories that we have discovered- _Arlathvhen_. It's a tremendous thing," she said, "But no one longs to know _more_. My Grandmother taught me about humans, instilled a desire in me to know more than what we were taught."

 

"She sounds like a wise woman," Cullen said.

 

"She was," Amarantha sighed, "She died a year ago."

 

"I'm sorry," he said, scooting his chair closer to the table and reaching out his hand. Amarantha laid her own in his, and squeezed.

 

"There is still great pain," she sighed, "But I know she would have been so proud of me. I can assure you, that were she alive, she would be here. She wouldn't have missed this."

 

"I'm sure her counsel would have been most helpful," Cullen said, "And you would have someone familiar close by."

 

Amarantha laughed, "Are you kidding? She would have been on the front lines with your men. Never mind that she was ill and had a bad leg. She'd have insisted."

 

That made Cullen laugh, and they released their hands, Cullen's resting on his leg while Amarantha's cradled the chess piece once more. "I can see where you get your spirit from, then," he said, "Is your sister the same way?"

 

"Very much," Amarantha said, "Our mother, not so much, however. She was more of a traditional Dalish. Grandmamae always wondered where she went wrong with her."

 

Their conversation was interrupted by a messenger, one whose name Amarantha could not remember. He rushed up to them, and, forgetting the protocol of bowing to the Inquisitor as Cullen had drilled into them, merely thrust his hand forward, a letter pinched between his fingers. "It's urgent," he said breathlessly.

 

Amarantha reached out with her free hand to take the letter, ripping it open and reading it. She recognized the handwriting of her Keeper immediately, and with each word her heart sank and her mind fogged until she was only able to focus on the desperate request hastily written within.

 

"Inquisitor?" Cullen asked, standing and coming over to kneel at her side. Amarantha looked up, unaware of the tears that lined her eyes.

 

"My clan," she whispered, her voice tight, "They're under attack. By men claiming they are in service to Corypheus."

 

Cullen was on alert in an instant. He snapped orders to the messenger, then pulled Amarantha to her feet. "Get to the war room." he instructed, "Grab Josephine and Cassandra. I'll find Leliana."

 

"Yes," she said, turning and running out of the garden, shouting for Cassandra as she ran past the training grounds.

 

The short-haired woman looked up from the book she was reading, and when Amarantha yelled for her again as she zoomed past, Cassandra pocketed the volume and chased after her leader.

 

\-------------------

 

They were all gathered around the table, the letter written by Amarantha's Keeper in the middle.

 

"We need to send troops," Cullen insisted. No one disagreed, but there was question of how to get troops there in time.

 

"I can send agents on ahead," Leliana offered, "And Josephine, can you send a message to any local nobles who might have men to spare? Surely our allies will help protect the Inquisitor's family?"

 

"Of course," Josephine said, scribbling away frantically, "I will write immediately. May I use your fastest birds?"

 

"I'll ready them now," she said, moving away from the table, "And I'll send my fastest agents out immediately."

 

"Good," piped up Cassandra, "Cullen, we can spare some soldiers. Corypheus has been quiet of late, and while we cannot leave Skyhold unprotected, I do think we should send our best."

 

"I've got a list of recruits who will be best for the job," he said, "A few mages and Templars as well."

 

"I should go too," Amarantha said, which was quickly shot down by Cassandra and Cullen.

 

"You are needed here," Cassandra said, "I understand your pain, I truly do, but Cullen's men will take care of them."

 

"Yes," Cullen said, "And I will alert you to any reports I get. We need you here."

 

Nodding shakily, Amarantha did not argue. She _was_ needed here. And Cullen and the others were going to handle the villains who attacked her people. She shook her head to help fight back her tears, then nodded once more, firmly.

 

“Go. Help them," she said.

 

Cullen bowed quickly. "I will," he promised, then rushed out the door, leaving Cassandra and Amarantha alone.

 

Moving awkwardly, Cassandra stuttered, "Will you be all right?" It was clear she was not comfortable with trying to comfort another, but Amarantha appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

 

"I will," she said but the words felt empty. "Now," she said, turning to face Cassandra, "We can't just stand around. We have work to do."

 

Understanding Amarantha's need to focus on something else, Cassandra began telling her about some targets that were still wanted by the Seekers that had yet to be found. She marked locations on the map, and Amarantha forced herself to focus, even as her heart thudded in her chest. It was only then, as she squeezed her hands tighter, that she realized she was still holding onto the chess piece from before.

 

Swallowing thickly, she slid it into her pocket, and said a silent prayer to the gods to protect her people and her family.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.
> 
> It's looking like this story will be 50 chapters. I just started chapter 39, and I am so excited for you guys to see what I've got in store. 
> 
> Thank you to those of you who have left comments and kudos. They really do mean a lot, and I appreciate your kind words so much. :-) 
> 
> Also, quick update on my Inquisitor (the cat): He's doing GREAT. He's gained weight and his tail is healing nicely, if slowly. But my tough little guy has come a long way. 
> 
> This story has no beta, so I apologize for any errors. 
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER: The demands of faith are sometimes too much to bear.


	10. The Demands of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faiths are tested; much is lost. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Warning: The end of this chapter contains a brief, non-graphic description of self-harm.**

Chapter Ten: Demands of Faith

 

The world stopped for no one. Paperwork piled on the oak desk in her bedroom, and there seemed to be an unending stream of questions and requests waiting just outside the sanctuary of her room. The world continued on, the people therein moving along in frantic bustling as they attended to their duties.

 

Amarantha moved along with them just as quickly, just as efficiently, but her mind had slowed to a standstill. Her own world, the clan Lavellan, was under attack, and so far the few reports she'd received had told her nothing worthwhile. She carried on, her role as Inquisitor not ceasing merely because her own personal trials were weighing heavily on already thin shoulders, but she pressed on.

 

Cullen checked on her frequently, as did Dorian, Bull, and Cole. Cole, under the tutelage of Varric, was learning when to speak and when to stay silent, because sometimes _that_ was the best way to help. He sat curled up on Amarantha's desk while she signed documents, silent and watchful like a cat, studying the crease that lingered on Amarantha's brow as she forced herself to work.

 

Requests for alliances were pouring in now, and Josephine had sent a stack of ones she deemed acceptable to Amarantha to ponder over. Allies were useful, necessary, but too many would pose a problem. She had to be careful, find ways not to insult those whose assets were not needed by finding ways they could help the Inquisition without being more burden than anything. One such request sat on her desk, separate from the others.

 

Bull had come to her with a message from the Qunari not long after Cullen had sent out troops to aid her people. The Qunari for some strange reason now wanted to work with the Inquisition. Bull expressed his concerns, even as he supported the idea, and had left the matter up to Amarantha to decide. It was a strange but appealing idea, aligning with the Qunari, and Amarantha decided that perhaps it might be best to see to this one sooner rather than later.

 

The Storm Coast was a three day trip and Amarantha thought the journey- the distraction- might be beneficial. Getting away from Skyhold _,_ doing something might be just the thing to help ease the ever-growing worry in the back of her mind, and so she slipped out of her room to find Josephine and inform her of her plan.

 

While Josephine made the necessary arrangements Amarantha went to find Bull, Varric, Dorian, and Cole, all of whom she would take with her to the Storm Coast.

 

When they arrived three days later, Bull was on edge in a way that made Amarantha's own fear and worry grow. They were met by an elf Iron Bull called Gatt, who spoke of the Qun with the same fondness Amarantha heard Cullen or Leliana speak of Andraste.

 

Gatt reported that there were some Venatori who needed taking out, and that once those one the shoreline were out of the way, the Dreadnought, a great Qunari vessel, would take out the rest. Amarantha listened and nodded when appropriate, knowing that Bull had a handle on the situation. They split up, Bull taking the Inquisition members while he assigned Krem and the Chargers - who had insisted on not being left out of the fun- to take the far shore. It was the easier job, and they all knew it, but Amarantha relished the challenge ahead of them. She desperately needed the distraction.

 

With the Venatori taken care of, The group stands on the edge of the cliff that had been the Venatori camp. Amarantha felt good, the alliance so far falling smoothly into place. She was grateful that for once, things seemed to be going without any sort of problems. She watched as Bull signaled the Dreadnought, then stepped back to await its arrival. After a few moments it appeared over the rocking waves, truly a devastating sight to behold. Bull hadn't exaggerated when he'd described the Qunari war ship to them during the three day journey. It was quite impressive.

 

"Wow," Amarantha breathed, glancing at the ship with wonder.

 

Beside her, Bull smirked, clearly pleased with her reaction as he crossed his arms over his chest. "This brings back memories," he said softly, and Amarantha couldn’t help but wonder just what sort of memories the ship brought to mind.

 

They remained silent as they watched the Dreadnought begin its assault, a true display of Qunari skill in combat. Bull laughed proudly as the attack continued, his people showing just how good they were at what they did.

 

Despite the impressive display before them, Amarantha's attention was caught by something below, and with great horror she looked down to see a group of Venatori marching up the cliff toward the Chargers. Reaching out to grab at Bull, she turned her head to see he'd already noticed as well.

 

"Crap," he hissed.

 

The Chargers saw them too, and their weapons were readied in an instant. But Amarantha understood something in that moment, something that sent her heart crashing just as low as when she'd learned about the danger her clan was in. They would not survive this attack. The Chargers were outnumbered, and while Amarantha didn't doubt their skill, she also knew that there was no way the Chargers would come out unscathed.

 

"Bull," she breathed, but he didn't look at her. Instead he focused on the Chargers, his whole body tensing.

 

"They'll be killed," she whispered urgently. "If you call a retreat now, they can get away."

 

Bull glanced at her this time, and the look on his face nearly took her breath. While he normally kept his features neutral-a skill learned in his Ben-Hassrath training - now it was full of despair; and he was letting her see it.

 

“Yeah."

 

Neither voiced what calling a retreat would do. It was obvious to all of them.

 

Gatt chose that moment to speak up. He jumped in front of Bull, arms spread out as he cried, "Your men need to hold that position, Bull!"

 

Bull looked down at Gatt and said simply, "They do that, they're dead." He was not arguing, not begging. Just merely stating the fact. Gatt began to insist that if the Chargers _did_ retreat, the Dreadnought would be dead. Amarantha balled her hands into fists, anger boiling at the pit of her stomach as Gatt continued trying to persuade Bull to sacrifice his men for the alliance. Behind her, Varric, Cole, and Dorian watched silently, all bristling at the options available but knowing better than to offer an opinion unless asked. It was clear that there were enough voices throwing around arguments here.

 

"You'll be throwing away an alliance between the Qunari and the Inquisition!" Gatt continued, then added a bit softer, "You'd be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth."

 

Hietala vaguely understood what that meant; Bull hadn't told her much about it, but the word had come up before, and she knew that it didn't bode well. She swallowed thickly, choosing not to say anything else unless Bull asked her. She wasn't going to play tug-of-war with Gatt over what Bull should do, and so she stood silently by the Qunari's side, watching him carefully and eying Gatt suspiciously.

 

Gatt carried on, seemingly oblivious to the other elf's gaze and Bull's own internal struggle. "I told them you'd _never_ become Tal-Vashoth! Yet, half the Ben-Hassrath think you've betrayed us already!"

 

Bull turned his gaze sharply down at Gatt. "They're _my_ men," he said, and while he was calm, his voice was dark and rough and threatening.

 

"I know, " Gatt sighed, "But you need to do what's right, Hissrad, for the alliance," he paused then added, "For the Qun."

 

Something in Bull faltered at Gatt's words. He stood for a moment, then turned to Amarantha. He said nothing, but his expression said everything he wasn't about to say in front of Gatt. He was torn. She knew the feeling. She'd wanted nothing more than to run head first toward her clan, blades drawn and ready to fight. But she understood her role, and knew that Cullen's men were more than capable of protecting her people. That small comfort did not exist here. Amarantha looked to Bull, seeing his expression and the image mirrors how she'd felt a few days ago. How she felt now. She didn't know the fate of her people, but she did know the fate of Bull's. It would not be a decision easily lived with, but it was a decision she had to help make, and she would bear the weight of it.

 

The Chargers were family. And Amarantha was not in the business of letting her family die needlessly.

 

She met Bull's gaze, and when she spoke, her voice was firm and full of resolve: "Call the retreat."

 

Bull looked at her for one long moment and Amarantha understood what he was not saying. To call a retreat, though still not an easy decision, was the decision Bull wanted to make. He respected his fellow Qunari, but he loved his men. And that was not something that could be sacrificed. Not for an alliance. Not for anything.

 

Beside him, Gatt begins to protest frantically, but his words went unheard as Bull lifted his chafar to his lips and blew one loud, bursting note. His men sheathed their weapons and turned away. Amarantha let out a sigh of relief.

 

"They're falling back," Bull said with an air of finality. There was no going back from this decision.

 

Gatt began to pace angrily around the camp, his arms flinging wildly in front of him. "All these years, Hissrad, and you throw away all that you are, and for what? For this?" He looked at Amarantha hatefully, "For _them_?"

 

Amarantha stepped forward suddenly, surprised by her own ferocity towards the elf and she hissed, "His name is The Iron Bull and as a valued member of the Inquisition you will show him respect!"

 

Gatt blinked. surprised by her sudden outburst almost as much as Amarantha herself, then nodded once. "Fine then," he spat. With one final look at them, Gatt pushed past them, and left to find his own men.

 

Below, the mages had already began their assault on the Dreadnought. Amarantha moved to leave, stepping close to Dorian and the others, but stopped short when Bull didn't move to follow. Turning, she watched as he stared out at the sea, the ship that he'd once been so proud of beginning to bend under the attack. Not knowing how to comfort a Qunari, but knowing that she could not stand by and let him suffer alone, Amarantha stepped forward and without a word slipped her hand into his.

 

Bull didn't seem to notice, instead murmuring to himself, forlornly, "Qunari dreadnoughts don't sink."

 

But they did, apparently. Cole stepped forward and opened his mouth, but a look from Amarantha had him snap his lips shut once more, nodding in understanding. He could comfort the Qunari later, but now was not the time for words. Bull liked Cole well enough, but he didn't need the spirit boy reading his mind at the moment. Cole reached out and took Amarantha's free hand, and she squeezed, thanking him silently for the support.

 

The vessel began to sink before them, and Amarantha couldn't help but wonder just what was going through Bull's mind. He'd spent his whole life knowing that Dreadnoughts didn't sink;. But here they were, watching that very thing happen. After a moment, Bull's fingers tightened around her own, and though it was painful, she said nothing, instead squeezing back just as hard. Bull needed something to cling to in this moment, and she would be there for her friend and ally, offering silent comfort to a man who'd just watched his entire world crash and burn before them.

 

After a moment, he sighed. "Come on," he said, "Let's get back to my boys."

 

The trip to camp was a silent one. Gatt met them at the edge, declaring that there would be no alliance between the Inquisition and the Qunari, and that Bull had been declared _Tal-Vashoth_. Bull said nothing, merely nodded and bid farewell to Gatt, who stormed off grumbling angrily.

 

Bull stood for a moment, then turned to his men and offered them a grin that was fatherly and endearing. "When we get back to Skyhold, drinks are on me," he declared. The group cheered and went off to begin packing up the camp. Krem lingered for a moment, and when the rest were gone, he stepped closer to the Qunari.

 

"You're all right, you know that?" He said, slapping Bull on the arm before turning and shouting orders to the others. Amarantha studied Bull for a moment, then turned, surprised when Dorian was right there.

 

"Well that was interesting," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

"It was a choice that had to be made," she whispered, knowing Bull could probably hear them regardless of how softly she spoke.

 

"Oh, I know that," Dorian said with a wave of his hand, "I just wanted you to know that, should you get back to a room full of counselors who are angry over our ruining a potentially decent if not dreadful alliance, that you have my full support on the decision."

 

"That's 'cause you aren't a fan of us Qunari," Bull said, stepping closer to the two of them. Dorian looked offended.

 

"If you _must_ know, you large ox, I fully believe in our little Inquisitor here,” he said as he draped an arm over her shoulder. “She's got a good judge of character." He lifted his chin and let his other hand fall to his hips, "Just look at me." With that he winked at Amarantha and turned to find Varric, who was sitting with Cole, explaining something to him with wildly waving hands.

 

"He means well," Amarantha weakly defended the mage, glancing up at the Qunari. He huffed, but nodded.

 

"I'm sure he does," he said, then looked at her knowingly. "How are you doin'?"

 

"I don’t regret-"

 

"I didn't mean about _this_ ," Bull said, gesturing around them. "How. Are. _You_. Doing?"

 

"I’m more concerned about you at the moment.”

 

Bull gave her a hard stare, grunting in a way that almost sounded like a snort. After a moment, her shoulders sagged. “I'm worried. Terrified."

 

"Any word today?"

 

Amarantha glanced at the messenger who was stationed at the camp, who had been standing patiently waiting to report in. The messenger shook his head, and with a sigh Amarantha glanced back at Bull. " _That_ worries me almost as much as anything."

 

"Well, if Cullen's men are half as good as us, your clan will be fine," Bull said, slapping Amarantha on the back cheerfully. It felt hollow to her, but she chose not to comment on it. She had to have faith. And so while she set to work rolling up her own pack, she prayed once more, first to Andraste to thank her for keeping the Chargers safe, then to her own gods for the protection of her people.

 

One god had heard her prayers today. Surely the others would too.

 

Three days later they reached the gates of Skyhold, and for three days Amarantha had waited with bated breath for word on her people. There had been nothing, and she grew more fearful and frantic as each hour passed. She hadn't slept the last two nights of the journey, sitting up in her tent praying to the gods to _please_ hear her. She'd even prayed the Dread Wolf might slay those who dared assault her people, and even asked Andraste to protect them. She was torn, torn between believing blindly that she would return home to good news, but something in the pit of her stomach told her that the worst was to be expected. She didn't know what to believe, what to trust, and so she merely prayed, repeating the same pleas over and over, wondering whether the gods heard her, and if they did, would they care?

 

\----------------------

 

There was a specific order to things upon the return to Skyhold. Amarantha rode directly to the stables where Master Dennet, a friendly horse master from the Hinterlands, would take her steed and inspect it, feed it, and clean it. After she dismounted and bid farewell to the loving creature, she would immediately venture to the war room to report to the council of anything that had occurred that required more detail than had been sent in the initial reports. They would talk, eventually delving into simple catching-up, then Amarantha would retire to her quarters where Josephine would have a bath ready for her.

 

The order was no different today, though Amarantha felt the slightest bit rushed in her actions. She bid a hasty greeting to Dennet, then ran toward the stairs which lead to the main hall. In the back of her mind, she remembered a time when she could barely walk up these steps thanks to her stand against Corypheus, and ran a little faster as a silent and private bit of spite toward the would-be god.

 

She slowed to a brisk pace as she entered the building, not wanting the nobles to look at her as if she were a savage. "Ladies do not run indoors," Josephine had drilled into her head, but Amarantha was eager to hear if any reports had been sent here, and so she bent the rules a little, nodding quickly to the people who had lined up on either side to greet her as she passed.

 

She broke out into a run once she was in the hallway that led to the war room, noticing as she ran by that Josephine was not at her desk. She was probably waiting on her, Amarantha thought, and she yanked open the door to the war room, stopping short when she was met with three pairs of eyes that bore the pain of grave news.

 

Amarantha's breath shook as she tried to steady her breathing, and she stepped forward carefully, glancing at each other them as she approached the war table, her legs too weak suddenly to allow her to move any faster.

 

It was Cullen who stepped forward, and he looked as grave as her mother had when she'd told her daughter that Grandmother Albizia had passed. He said nothing, merely held out the opened letter to her. She took it, her hand trembling, and when she glanced back to meet his eyes, he whispered, voice broken, "We got word not an hour ago. I'm so sorry."

 

Opening the letter, Amarantha read the report from the messenger that had been delivered. The bandits, who were Venatori agents in disguise, had slaughtered the majority of her clan. Apparently one bandit had survived long enough to proclaim that Corypheus’ will had been done. Only a handful of the clan had survived.

 

Her legs gave out from underneath her, and Amarantha collapsed, only to be caught by Cullen as he lowered himself to the ground with her, where Amarantha sat in stunned silence in his arms. Her clan was gone. The gods had not heard her.

 

The letter crumpled around the edges where her grip tightened. "W-who survived?" She asked, her voice eerily calm. "Where are they?"

 

"I have a list of names," he said, motioning for someone to hand him the other report. Josephine rushed around the table and handed it to him, but Amarantha snatched it out of her hands, eyes flying over the report.

 

The First had survived. As had two of the elders, and a few others. The last name on the list was Amaryllis, and it was with equal relief and despair that Amarantha took in the fact that while her sister lived, her parents had not survived. Something broke in her then, the thought of her sister orphaned and alone, the thought of her people gone, and she crumbled in on herself, and let loose a gut wrenching scream.

 

Her voice cracked as she continued to scream, the tormented wails echoing on the stone and adding a disturbing chorus of agony in the room. The sound melted into a sob as she bent forward, head resting on the floor even as Cullen held her about the waist, tears flowing as freely as the blood of her people. She wept, sobs mixed with desperate cries and curses in Elven.

 

"They didn't listen," she cried, her hands coming up to grip the sides of her head, "They didn't listen! Why do they not hear us!"

 

Cullen said nothing, merely held her and rubbed her back and her side with one hand, holding her tight with the other. She seemed oblivious to his presence as she curled in on herself, her whole body wracked and shaking as sorrow consumed her fully.

 

When breathing became difficult, a similar burning and pain that she'd felt after walking through the snow covered mountain pass, Cullen pulled her up against his chest, and whispered to her to take a deep breath. She obeyed mindlessly, taking one slow and deep shaking breath after another. Josephine knelt in front of her after a moment, handkerchief in hand and wiped softly at the elf's face, which was soaked in tears.There were tears on Josephine’s cheeks as well.

 

Amarantha took the handkerchief after a moment and wiped her nose, then dropped her hands to her lap where the report rested, the ink smeared from her crying. For a few minutes, all Amarantha did was breathe, instructed by Cullen every few moments to take it slow and steady. Her gaze remained on the floor. Leliana approached a moment later, kneeling down beside her friend, and taking Amarantha's hand in her gloved one.

 

"I am sorry," she whispered, "What do you need us to do?"

 

"My sister," Amarantha said instantly, her voice cracking from the strain of before, "I want my sister."

 

"I will send my agents to get her," Leliana said. At that, Amarantha lifted her eyes.

 

"Where are the-" her voice caught, "The survivors?"

 

"Stationed at an Inquisition camp near the-" Cullen broke off, then offered instead, "We can move them all here, if you wish."

 

It was not how she'd wanted her people to see Skyhold, but the fortress was the best defense. They could be safe here. She nodded. "Yes," she whispered, hoarse, "Bring them here."

 

Cullen nodded to Leliana and Josephine, who stood and marched out of the room, pulling Cassandra with them. The Seeker followed silently, wishing she knew how to comfort, but not knowing what to say or do. Deciding it was best to leave Cullen to it, she followed, but not before meeting the Commander's eyes and silently informing him to let her know how their Inquisitor was doing. Not because the Inquisitor was needed, though that was certainly the case. For the moment, she was a young woman grieving, and Cassandra would fight to see that for the next few days, the world was put on hold.

 

Finally alone, Cullen shifted so That Amarantha was cradled in his arms. She sat sideways, and her head fell instantly to his shoulder, needing the support.

 

"What happened?" She asked, toying with the handkerchief absently.

 

"The scouts arrived during a particularly gruesome fight," he explained gently, "Your clan was fighting, but were overwhelmed. The scouts helped, but it was already too late. When the soldiers made it a day later, only half the scouts and people listed there," he gestured to the report, "Were alive."

 

She shuddered against him. Cullen ran a hand over her arm comfortingly. “Are you-”

 

"Please don't ask me if I'm alright," she cut him off, "Because I'm not."

 

"No, I don't expect you are," he agreed. "Come, can you stand? We'll get you to your quarters. Maker knows you don't need to sit here all night."

 

Nodding, she allowed Cullen to help her stand, and lead her out of the room. Josephine was at her desk writing frantically, only stopping long enough to watch as Cullen led Amarantha out of the room. He walked with her, arm in arm past nobles who were ignorant of what had occurred despite the volume of their leader's screams from earlier, and guided her to her chambers. They would learn soon enough.

 

Once the door that separated the main hall from the room was shut, Cullen swept Amarantha into his arms and carried her up the stairs to her room, where Cassandra sat, chin resting in her hands on the bed. Cullen sat the elf down on the large sofa, and looked to Cassandra curiously.

 

"I had her a bath drawn," Cassandra said helplessly, "I thought it might….help."

 

Amarantha nodded and stood, mindlessly stripping off her armor, a puppet obeying without thought. Cullen's eyes widened, then he nodded to Cassandra and slipped out of the room.

 

Once naked, Cassandra led Amarantha to the tub and assisted her friend inside, where she merely sank down until the only thing visible were were her eyes, which were tightly shut. Pulling a stool over to the edge of the tub, Cassandra silently tapped on Amarantha's shoulders and the elf sat up a little straighter. Taking her hair in her hands, Cassandra slid her fingers through it, pouring a small jugful of water over her to wet the roots. Wordlessly she grabbed a bottle and began to massage the sweet-smelling liquid into the elf's sunset-colored hair.

 

"When I was a girl, I had long hair," Cassandra mused, "Much like yours. Yours is probably longer. But when I was sad, my maid would wash my hair, massage my scalp. It was the one luxury I ever indulged in."

 

"My mother used to plait my hair," Amarantha whispered, voice cracked and hoarse. "She would sing while she did it. My grandmother would hold my sister and do the same. They would argue over songs, and we would laugh. My father....he merely sat by and called us silly girls. Then he would sing, and we would all grow silent and listen to him instead. He had a lovely voice." A sob choked her, and she went silent.

 

"You were close to your family," Cassandra whispered. Amarantha nodded, sighing as tears began to fall fresh.

 

"I....I understand," she whispered, "I had a brother.....Anthony. He....I miss him so much. He died many years ago."

 

"What happened?"

 

The hands in her hair stopped. "He was killed," Cassandra said after a moment. "Right in front of me."

 

"I'm sorry," Amarantha said, turning slightly and taking Cassandra's hand in hers. The other woman smiled softly, blinking away her own tears.

 

"I am....not as able as others to show sympathy," she said carefully, "But....I do understand."

 

"Thank you," Amarantha said, her heart weighing heavily in her chest. It was a small comfort to know that others were willing to help hold some of that weight, and she hoped she offered that same kindness to them. Quickly, Cassandra pulled away and gestured for Amarantha to turn so that she might rinse the suds out of her hair. Once her hair was clean, Cassandra stood, drying her hands on her leggings. "I will leave you for a bit," she said, needing to get away herself, the pain of her own loss still too fresh, "If you need anything-"

 

"I know."

 

Nodding, Cassandra turned, leaving Amarantha alone. With a heavy sigh she stepped out of the tub, mindless of the mess she left as she dripped everywhere. She stood for a long moment, uncertain, then grabbed a towel to begin drying herself. She moved stiffly, the motions automatic as her mind buzzed, too many thoughts trying to break through even as it was utterly blank with despair and anger.

 

She turned, stopping suddenly at the sight of her reflection in the ornate mirror that had been installed in her room at Vivienne's suggestion. Dropping the towel, she stepped up to it, her fingers coming up to lightly touch the vallaslin that rested on her cheeks. It was a pale gold color that branched along her flesh, only truly noticeable when caught in the light. Amarantha's fingers trailed over the blood writing, recalling the pain she had endured in the name of Mythal. She'd taken the Mother's mark, her bond to her own mother and grandmother deep and powerful. She'd sought to have something like that with the gods once: she'd believed she would call on them in her time of need and they would hear her. Her grandmother had warned her not to be so optimistic, but it was the only time she'd ever really disregarded her grandmother's advice. She'd wanted to believe in the gods and so she had.

 

But they had failed her. Her family, her clan, was gone. They had turned their backs on her prayer and allowed those she loved to be slaughtered.

 

Her fingers curled into the flesh of her cheek, blunt nails digging into the skin as she stared at herself, hating that she had been fool enough to believe, and desperately hoping that perhaps they had a plan, that the Creators had a _reason_ for her suffering. Her fingers slid down her cheek, the sudden pain jerking her out of her half-possessed fury and when she drew her hand away she was not surprised to find blood on her fingertips. Glancing back at the mirror she saw the scratch she had left behind, red and angry against her pale flesh and golden vallaslin.

 

Her mark was flawed, as were the gods she'd tried to honor with it. She wiped the blood from her face, and turned away, moving to the bed where she curled up, knees to chest, and stared out at nothing. It had been a trying week and she wanted to rest. But her mind ventured back to the Storm Coast, where Bull had faced the choice of saving his men or saving his people and their alliance. His faith demanded that he choose one way, but he'd chosen another, and had been banished as a result. She wondered how resolute he would remain to the Qun, if it was something he would hold onto despite his new status as Tal-Vashoth. She couldn't see him letting go so easily.

 

She wondered if her faith had the same strength. Right now she had never felt so disconnected from it, so lost and alone. A sense of helplessness swarmed over her like blanket, stifling and suffocating as it pushed her sleep.

 

That night she dreamed, and the world was dark and silent, save for a shadowy figure whose hand was outstretched toward her. Amarantha stepped forward, stopping as she heard a voice, soft and soothing whisper, " _I shall not be left to wander in the drifting roads of the Fade. For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."_

 

The voice repeated the phrase twice more, and when she fell silent, Amarantha chose to take the outstretched hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Amarantha. Poor Bull. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your kind words. I appreciate every kudos, every comment, every view. I'm so glad you are reading and (hopefully) enjoying this journey. 
> 
> As always, no beta. Apologies for any mistakes. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Amarantha and her sister are reunited. The sisters cope with their loss.


	11. Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What remains of Clan Lavellan arrives at Skyhold; the sisters are finally reunited.

Chapter Eleven: Sisters

 

It was with great surprise and uncertain trepidation that the council carried on the war meeting the next day. Josephine had come to check on Amarantha only to stop short to see the elf was up and dressed. She lacked her usual cheer and good humor, but she was up, and nodded politely to the ambassador before exiting her quarters to head to the war room. Josephine noticed her breakfast, which had been brought in at first light, remained untouched. It was with great restraint that she did not chase after the Inquisitor and order her to eat, but she left it alone, deciding that she would fuss later, once she'd gauged the Inquisitor's reactions to the meeting.

Amarantha was surprisingly focused, if not stoic and tight-lipped. She made suggestions, asked questions, but lacked the usual engagement that she displayed. She read reports, signed off on paperwork, and assigned Inquisition workers to varying tasks around Thedas. There were numerous things that needed immediate attention, and Amarantha saw to them with a quiet if unattached proficiency.

Once business was over, Amarantha cleared her throat, drawing all eyes to her, and after a moment of swallowing the thick lump in her throat spoke, "When.....my people arrive....I'd like to...there's an old tradition among the Dalish to plant a tree over the graves of the dead. _Vallasdahlen._  I-" she faltered, "The garden cannot hold that many trees....and I will not have my people dug up from where they were laid to rest, but I thought perhaps we might plant....one.....to honor them." She paused then added, "And perhaps one more to honor those that fell at Haven."

"Of course, Inquisitor," Josephine said almost instantly, deciding to speak for the group. The others agreed in turn, and with that, the meeting ended.  

Amarantha glanced at the group, offered a smile that was weak at best to thank them, then exited. The others looked at each other with worry, Leliana motioning to her cheek with one finger to quietly ask if everyone had noticed the scratches on the elf's face. They had.

Amarantha walked through the main hall, running through all the things she had to do that day. There were plenty, but all she wanted to focus on was the glaring fact that she had lost her people. But now wasn't the time for pity. She'd done that the night before, and for all that she wanted to run and hide and cry and scream and rage, she couldn't. She _wouldn't_. She had a job to do, and she was going to _help_ these people, so that no one ever felt the way she did at that moment.

She was caught by some others of her inner circle who had undoubtedly heard about what happened. They all offered comfort, pats of the back and hugs, words of condolences. She was grateful for them all, but she also wanted to speak of anything but what had occurred. It was too painful, too real. So she kept on, working, making decisions, and forcing down the choked sobs that threatened to spill over.

At dinner time she retreated to her room, curled up on the balcony and staring out at the white mountains that surrounded them like guards. A knock sounded on her door and even though Amarantha didn't answer, it opened, and the thundering steps that echoed on the wood alerted her to the fact that it was Bull.

Cole was with him, a silent specter, and they joined her on the balcony, Bull handing her a mug of strange smelling liquid.

"No questions, just drink," he said. Wordlessly, Amarantha obeyed, coughing and almost spitting out the drink the moment it hit her lips. "Puts some chest on your chest," he said with a soft laugh.

Beside her, Cole watched. "Empty, cold. Like the snowy pass I traveled once before. No end this time. Will I wander forever? Will I wonder forever? Why did they not hear me?"

"Cole," Bull warned, but Amarantha waved him off.

"It's fine, Bull. He's just trying to help."

"Did I?" Cole asked. He hadn't, but Amarantha knew nothing would. His effort was enough, and she nodded.

"Yes, Cole."

The boy looked at her suspiciously, not quite believing her, but sat back against the railings, watching silently as Amarantha held onto the mug.

"We both went through some shit, huh?" Bull asked, "Though, you didn't ask for yours."

"Neither did you."

"Hey, I made a choice. I could have picked one over the other. But I didn't. And I'm _here_."

"It was a choice that shouldn't have to have been made," she argued softly.

"But we had to make it. And now we live with it," Bull said, "And it's a lot easier to live with when you know you don't have to do it alone."

Amarantha nodded and they fell into silence. Bull chugged his own drink, while Amarantha took slow, small sips, wincing each time the bitter alcohol hit her tongue. Despite the awful drink, she was grateful for the company, even as she didn’t want to talk. Everything was still too raw. But she appreciated Bull and Cole’s visit. It was enough to show they cared, but it wasn’t prying, wasn’t waiting for her to open up. It was enough.

After a while, Bull stood and brushed off his pants. “We’ll let you be,” he said, motioning for Cole to stand. “But you know where to find me if you need anything, Boss," he added, "I'm not going anywhere."

That eased the ache a fraction, as did Cole reaching forward to hug her. He was learning a great deal it seemed, and Amarantha accepted the hug gratefully. Bull led Cole out of the room, quietly explaining why not staying too long was helping. Once more, almost too soon, Amarantha was alone, save for the foul drink that Bull had left her. She lifted it to her lips once more, but thought better of it and pushed it aside on the balcony, mostly untouched. It would surely dull the ache, and Bull had meant well, but the last thing she wanted was alcohol. She didn’t drink often, not liking the haziness that overcame her. She was, as Dorian and Bull called her, a light weight, and couldn’t hold much liquor before getting giggly and touchy. As Inquisitor, she couldn’t afford to be seen as less than professional, even when relaxing at the tavern with friends.

Her door opened again a few minutes later, and Amarantha sighed. She wanted to be alone even as she _didn't_ want to be alone, but she counted her blessings and decided to be grateful that she had friends to check on her. It was better than sitting silently in solitude. It was better than thinking about how her gods had betrayed her.

The soft padding of bare feet on the wood floor made her turn and she saw Solas standing over her, two cups in his hands. He looked at her, then to the mug sitting abandoned, grinned in amusement, and knelt down, offering her a cup.

"Tea," he said, "To calm."

"Thank you," she said, taking a sip. It was tolerable; she’d never been entirely fond of tea, though it was certainly better than the ale Bull had provided. She’d started drinking tea some since she arrived at Skyhold, mostly because it was what the kitchen provided for her breakfast and she’d never had the heart to ask for something else, grateful instead for what she was given. Solas took a sip of his own cup, wincing almost as harshly as she had when she’d tried Bull’s drink.

"Not to your liking?" She asked. Solas shook his head.

"I detest tea," he said, "But it is an act of solidarity, so I shall endure." Amarantha smiled and chose to keep her own dislike of tea to herself. The gesture itself was more than enough.

"Then here's to the awful things we drink for the sake of our friends," she said, taking another sip as Solas laughed.

"Indeed."

They sat silently for a long moment, then Solas spoke again. "I hear you are going to plant a tree in the garden for your people."

She stiffened at that, knowing Solas' opinion of the Dalish and their customs. They didn't agree, but they tried to respect each other as best they could. "Yes," she said, wiping at the sudden tears that had welled up, "Though I'm sure you think it's foolish."

"On the contrary," Solas said softly, making Amarantha blink at him curiously, "I think it is a beautiful sentiment. I may not see eye to eye with the Dalish, but please do not think I do not feel this loss. Not so profoundly as you - they were _your_ people - but I am an elf in spite of everything, and I cannot help but feel great sorrow at what has been taken."

"Ma serannas," Amarantha said, before putting down her cup, letting her hands fall to her lap with a sigh.

“You are stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he said after a thoughtful moment, “And your people, you family, are proud of you.”

Amarantha stared at Solas, surprised by the comforting words. He was not one for doling out praise, which was why it always meant a great deal to her when she had his approval. This moment was no exception. Sometimes his words reminded her of things her grandmother might have said. For a moment she thought that they might have gotten along, but Solas was a bit too stoic for her grandmother’s liking. The older woman had more spirit and fire than most people half her age. But Solas’ wisdom would have been appreciated. Amarantha knew she was grateful for it.

Sensing that her thoughts were taking a sorrowful turn, Solas rose to his knees. “Shall I leave you to your thoughts?” He asked. Amarantha considered it a moment, then shook her head.

“Will you tell me more about Arlathan?” She asked suddenly.

Solas smiled.

“Of course, da’len,” he said, and moved to lean against the frame of the archway, gesturing for Amarantha to join him. “Perhaps when I’m finished, you could tell me about your family.” She nodded, thinking perhaps talking about her parents might be helpful, picked up her cooling cup of tea and scooted to Solas’ side, where he held her close and whispered stories of the ancient elves to her, soothing her with his calm, steady voice.  

\---------------

A week later, Amarantha stood at the edge of the stairs facing the gate, surrounded by her council and friends as they waited for the soldiers leading the last survivors of Clan Lavellan toward the gates of Skyhold. They were set to arrive at any moment and Amarantha stood, fists clenching and unclenching as she waited impatiently. She needed to see them, needed to see her sister, and she watched the gates with sharp eyes, waiting for the moment they arrived.

They had been traveling for several days, with reports coming in once a day to inform Skyhold of the clan’s faring. In the days that stretched between them, Amarantha had busied herself with as much as possible to keep her mind from worrying every moment about _when_ they would arrive. She’d met with dignitaries, all of whom had heard of the massacre and expressed their condolences, which always ripped open the wound anew. It stung, but she put on a brave face and thanked them, talked politics, and worked on forging alliances and making nice with those whose favor, wealth, and influence could further the Inquisition’s cause.

At night she was visited by a rotating circle of friends. Solas and Cullen were the most frequent visitors, both offering comfort in their own way. Solas told her stories of the Fade, of his travels within, and talked to her about the magic he held at his fingertips. Cullen sat quietly with her, sometimes bringing the chess board to further teach her to play. She enjoyed the distraction and the company more, and found that the silence between them was exactly what she needed.

A horn blew to signal the arrival of the journeying party, and Amarantha was pulled from her thoughts as her eyes searched the oncoming group for sight of her sister. The company entered the gates, and Amarantha felt the pain afresh at seeing how few were left of her people. Among the tall figures of the adults and soldiers stood a much shorter figure, and Amarantha felt her breath catch at the sight of her sister, who met her eyes almost instantly.

"Sister!" The girl cried, causing the elders and others to look at her sharply as if to admonish her for acting out. She ignored their stern looks and took off running toward the steps where her sister stood. Amarantha did the same, forgoing what Josie had told her to do and rushed to greet her sister. She raced across the courtyard and slid onto her knees to catch her sister, whose arms wrapped around her neck in a grip that was so tight it knocked the wind out of the elder. The two girls clung to each other, and Amarantha began to sob openly as she held her sister for the first time in nearly a year. The girl began to weep too, wrapping herself completely around her sibling, holding onto her as if she would drown in her sorrow without her.

The two elven girls stayed that way for some time, clinging to each other tightly, and after a moment, the First stepped forward, tossing a sad but endearing glance to them, and approached the others.

"Thank you for receiving us," he said politely, his body tense with stress and grief.

At his words, Amarantha remembered herself, and gently tugged on her sister, who let go with the greatest reluctance. Amarantha stood and lifted her sister to her feet, keeping their hands entwined as she wiped at her eyes with her free hand and guided the smaller girl, who looked startlingly just like her older sister, to the group.

"Andaran atish'an," she said, bowing her head to respect the new head of the clan. He lifted his hand.

"I should be paying you respect, Inquisitor," he said, the word foreign on his tongue. "We thank you for allowing us sanctuary here."

"You are welcome as long as you wish," she said, squeezing her sister's hand, "The Inquisition is pleased to have you."

Some brief introductions were made, and Amarantha led the group away, insisting on showing them around. She led them eventually to the garden, which had been cleared of all others so that the clan could set up camp there. The new Keeper, named Sorolan, stood in the garden, watching as the remainder of his clan began to set up their camp. Amarantha moved to him, still holding onto her sister tightly, and watched the small group as they worked, movements slow, weary.

“I’ve read the reports,” she began softly, “But that cannot be all that happened. How did this…”

Sorolan shook his head, glancing down to the ground. “I cannot say,” he said quietly, “We were merely going about our business. A few strangers approached the camp and claimed to be friendly. We welcomed them, and for a brief time we fellowshiped. By nightfall we were surrounded. They killed Keeper Istimaethoriel first.”

Nodding tearfully, Amarantha turned away, glancing down at her sister, who was watching their clan with a deep frown. Amarantha shared her sister’s pain, understood how deep the hurt went. She hoped perhaps her time here could begin to heal the wound.

"You will become Keeper," Amarantha said softly. Sorolan shrugged, a gesture most unlike him. The man was as stoic as Solas, with a quiet wisdom that had made him the perfect choice as First. He would make an excellent Keeper.

"I do not know what we will do," Sorolan admitted softly. "We cannot go back to the way we were before. Not now, with so few of us."

"You are welcome to make your place here," Amarantha said even as she glanced around the towering walls that surrounded them, "Though I understand why you would not wish to. It can be suffocating at times. The walls."

"But they provide protection," Sorolan replied, "And at the moment, that is all I seek for us."

"Again, it is yours for as long as you wish," Amarantha said, laying a hand on the young man's shoulder. He was only a few years older than her, but he had always demanded the respect of someone greater in age. It was not prideful, but merely a gentle understanding that he knew his place and he would not be swayed from it. He would take care of their people. Amarantha was confident in that.

“I will leave you for now,” she said after a moment, "I have other duties I must see to, I'm afraid. But I would like to discuss plans for a-" her voice broke, "A memorial. We may not be able to bury the dead here, but Skyhold should still have a space to honor Clan Lavellan."

He turned his attention to her at that. “You do your people a great kindness,” he said with a tilt of his head.

“They are my people,” she replied simply, “I will see them honored."

"And avenged?" He asked cryptically. The thought had occurred to her, but she'd pushed it down, as she so often did with thoughts she was too afraid to linger upon.

"They will be avenged when Corypheus has breathed his last," she said, "I will not stop until Corypheus is no longer a threat. Whatever it takes.”

"Then if we are able to help-" Sorolan said. Amarantha shook her head.

"Be safe. That is what I need from you."

"As you wish, Inquisitor."

Turning, Amarantha glanced at her sister, who had been standing quietly by her side, listening to her elders speak. "Do you wish to stay here with the clan, or come with me while I work?" Amarantha asked.

Amaryllis squeezed her sister's hand. "I'd rather stay with you."

The elder sister smiled. "Then come with me. There are some people I want you to meet."

The Inner Circle had dispersed after her departure to their individual tasks. Amarantha led her around to each of them in turn, introducing her sister to those she valued. They all welcomed the young girl, and Amaryllis seemed fond of them in turn. Dorian made her blush, Varric made her smile. Sera had given her a cookie - which Amaryllis instantly loved - and Blackwall showed her the rocking horse he'd been working on.

Cassandra impressed the young girl, and Vivienne unnerved her. "She does that to everyone," Amarantha encouraged her sister once they left the mage's presence. Josephine cooed over the girl, and Leliana let her pet the ravens.

They made their way to Solas next, who was in the rotunda standing on the scaffolding with a paintbrush in his hand. He hopped down upon their entrance, stopping short when he got a good look at the girl. He'd seen her earlier, but standing side by side with her sister now, he couldn't help but remark, "Were you a little taller, you could be twins."

Amaryllis smirked, used to the comment and replied, "Or if Amarantha were a little shorter."

Unable to help himself, Solas laughed, "Well, I can see looks aren't the only trait you share with your sibling. It is good to meet you, da'len, though I am sorry for the circumstances that brought you here."

Amaryllis sobered at that, the reminder of why she was with her sister now soiling her good cheer. "Thank you," she said, glancing away, her eyes widening as they landed on the discarded staff which Solas had leaned on the sofa on the other end of the room.

"You're a mage!" She exclaimed in sudden excitement. Solas tipped his head in acknowledgement.

"I am," he said before clarifying, "An apostate, to be specific."

"You don't have a clan?" Amaryllis asked.

"No," he said, "I am not Dalish. Nor do I consider myself a city elf."

"So you're just....an elf," she said.

"I suppose I am," Solas said, with a smirk, "Did my ears give it away?"

Amaryllis giggled at that, and Amarantha smiled at her friend for helping to lighten her sister's burden, if only for a moment.

"Come," She said, "I have one more person I'd like you to meet."

As they walked past, Solas' amused murmur caught her ear, "Saved the best for last, did we?"

Amarantha shot the apostate a glare even as her cheeks reddened, and she ushered her sister out of the room and toward Cullen's office. As they walked on the battlement, Amaryllis stopped, her grip on her sister's hand causing the older one to stop as well.

"It's so pretty," Amaryllis said as she looked over the darkening sky, the light of the fading sun illuminating the mountains, making the snow reflect deep reds and springy oranges.

"It is," Amarantha agreed, "I like to sit up here sometimes. Think. Dream."

"Mamae and Papae would have liked it," Amaryllis said, and it was the first time that day the girl had mentioned her parents.

"Amaryllis, do you-"

"I want to meet your friend," the child said quickly, rubbing her fist over her eyes."I don't want to talk about them."

Understanding, Amarantha led the rest of the way to Cullen's office. She knocked once, then let herself in. Cullen was standing over his desk looking at a report. He glanced up at the intrusion, his stern gaze melting when he saw the two elves standing in his doorway.

"Inquisitor," he breathed, then glanced down to the younger, "And Lady Lavellan. Please come in."

The two entered the room, and Amarantha ushered her sister forward. "Commander Cullen, I'd like you to meet my sister, Amaryllis Lavellan."

Stepping forward, Cullen knelt down and held out his hand in front of the girl. Slowly, she placed her hand in his, watching him uncertainly, as he lifted her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "It is a pleasure," he said with a soft smile, "To finally meet you. Your sister speaks of you frequently."

"She writes about you a lot, too," Amaryllis said, wincing when her sister whacked her shoulder sharply.

"Amaryllis," she hissed. Cullen laughed and stood, glancing from one girl to the other.

"You look remarkably similar," he said and the younger girl huffed.

"Everyone has said that today."

Again, Cullen chuckled, "Then my apologies for reminding you yet again."

"It's all right, Amaryllis said as she looked around the room. "Are you a mage too?"

Cullen stiffened at that, his eyes flashing to Amarantha's then back down to the young girl. "No," he said, clearing his throat nervously, "I'm not a mage. I am, or rather _was,_ part of the Templar Order."

"I don't know what a Templar is," she admitted, "We don't have those."

"No, you don't," Cullen agreed, "But Templars are meant to help protect mages. It's much more complex than that of course, but that is part of our duties."

"You protect the mages here?"

"Yes," Cullen said, "As do the other Templars."

"That's good," Amaryllis said softly, glancing down momentarily, then back up to Cullen. "I can see why my sister likes you. You're nice."

The two adults balked at the young girl's blunt words, and with a frantic and stuttering good night, she pulled her sister out of the room and back to the battlements, where the child's honesty couldn't embarrass her further.

"I don't understand why you're being so silly," Amaryllis said with a huff as Amarantha led her to her quarters. "Adults are always making things more difficult than they need to be."

"It's not simple," Amarantha said softly, "I know I spoke of him often in my letters, but what I've told you and what I've told others here and not always the same."

"You wrote about him the way Grandmamae spoke about Grandfather," Amaryllis replied, "If you like him, just tell him."

"I'm the Inquisitor," Amarantha reminded her sibling, "We're at war. I'm an elf....I just...don't know if it would work."

"So?" Amaryllis said, moving through the large room and straight toward the balcony, her Dalish blood pulling her to the stars that flickered above, "We're at war. You could die. He could die. We're orphans now and our clan is almost gone. Why would you _not_ tell him?"

The words struck her hard, like one of Cassandra's punches. It was true; why hadn't she acted on her feelings? She'd accepted them with a kind of simple ease back at Haven. She'd even acted on impulse and kissed Cullen before facing Corypheus. But she'd not been certain she was going to survive then, and had wanted to die with no regrets. But what about now? Death was at every turn; Corypheus was planning great and terrible things and it could be at any moment that she met her end.

"You're twelve," Amarantha said as she joined her sister on the balcony, leaning over the rails as her sister sat, legs dangling between the iron rods, "When did you become so wise?"

"I've been spending time with Sorolan," she shrugged, "You were gone, and he was the only other interesting person left."

"Well that explains that," Amarantha said as she sat down, mimicking her sister's position before she balked. “Oh Creators,” she said, slapping a hand over her mouth in horror and shame, “You’re twelve.”

“You’re busy. You forgot,” Amaryllis shrugged. “I understand.”

“No,” Amarantha said sorrowfully, “That’s no excuse. I’m so sorry, Rilly. Perhaps when this is over we-”

“I don’t want to celebrate mybirthday,” she huffed, which was followed by a sniff.

"Amar-"

The girl moved quickly, curled herself into the elder's arms, and began to weep. Pulling her legs back, Amarantha wrapped her little sister in her arms and held her tight, rocking her back and forth as their mother had when she was a baby.

"Why did they have to die?" She whispered softly between sobs, "Why did those people attack us?"

Amarantha had no answer. She knew it was Corypheus, but what comfort would that bring her sister? He’d sought revenge against her because of what occurred at Haven. But it hardly mattered _why_. What mattered was that their family was gone, and Amarantha had been powerless to stop it. But telling her sister that wouldn't help ease the ache that had finally forced it's way to the surface of her sibling. Amarantha had had some time to grieve. She was still hurt, still felt the pain as sharply as she had when she'd dug her nails into her skin the week before, but had her sister had that luxury? They'd been traveling, moving, constantly on guard since the attack, and it occurred to Amarantha that this was perhaps the first moment that it had truly sunk in for the young girl.

They were orphans, abandoned by their gods and their family stolen from them.

"I don't know," she replied as she squeezed her sister tight, silently vowing that Corypheus would pay.

\---------------

The garden was filled with people two days later as remaining members of Clan Lavellan and the Inquisition officially mourned the loss of Amarantha’s people. The clan, Amarantha, and those closest to her stood in the garden, while the rest of those who inhabited the fortress watched from the gazebo, the battlements, and any space that allowed for a view of the elven tradition taking place.

Those who surrounded the garden created a billowing sea of black, the traditional color of mourning. Even those in the inner circle wore their darkest colors, everyone somber and silent. The only source of color came from the elves themselves, who wore their best clothing. Per their lifestyle, they did not have clothes set aside for funerals, and only wore what they had that was the most elegant. Even Amaryllis wore an orange tunic, her favorite one.

Bridging the gap between the two cultures was the Inquisitor herself, who had been gifted by Vivienne a black garment that had been styled after one of her old elven robes. It had been with a choked sob that Amarantha accepted the gift that morning, and for the first time she wondered if perhaps her perception of Vivienne was skewed. The woman clearly was not made of stone, and had expressed her own sincere condolences for the Inquisitor's loss.

The memorial would be distinct in that there were no bodies; the dead had been buried at the site of the attack, and those who had perished from the attack on Haven had long since found peace. There had not been time to properly prepare them, which had burdened Sorolan deeply, but he hoped that perhaps here they could do their people justice. Perhaps here the gods would hear them.

Two trees were carried in by two young recruits, one for the clan who had perished at the hands of bandits, and the other for the victims who had perished at Haven. The clan banded together, some digging two separate holes in the middle of the garden, while the others stood, singing as the trees were planted. When they had been covered with dirt, Sorolan stepped out to the middle of the garden, in between the two young trees and lifted his voice.

_"Malava inan enansal_

_Ir su araval tu elvaral_

_U na emma abelas_

_In elgar sa vir mana_

_In tu setheneran din emma na_

_Lath sulevin_

_Lath araval ena_

_Arla vent u vir mahvir_

_Malana ‘nehn_

_Enasal ir sa lethalin"_

 

As he sang, the clan joined with him, their voices raised high in harmony. Other elves around the keep joined in when they could, and even some humans lifted their voices, pronunciation off but hearts in tune.

Some had opposed the ritual, whispers slithering among the lower ranked soldiers and others who had long harbored internal suspicion of elves. That had been quickly discouraged by the inner circle, and it had been made known throughout the entire fortress that if someone didn't like what was happening, they could continue their duties, silently and without commentary, lest they be dismissed.

As it stood now, almost all of Skyhold had turned out in support of the Inquisitor, and those who did not know the song hummed along in time, creating a soft roll of melody that resonated throughout all of the garden and beyond. As they sang, the wind picked up, blowing the falling snow from the surrounding mountains into the keep, dusting the earth in a thin blanket of white.

Amarantha shivered, and the raw, stinging feeling in the back of her throat returned slightly, causing her voice to crack as she sang. In front of her stood her sister, whose hands she gripped tightly in her own as the singing quieted and Sorolan began to recite the names of those who had been lost in the attack. At the names of their parents, Amaryllis turned and buried her head into her sister's torso,  muffled sobs racking her body.

Amarantha remained dry-eyed, if only because she knew she would not be able to contain herself were she to let loose here. She had already cried so much, and was weary from tears and the headaches that followed such long bouts of grieving. She couldn't do her job if she was suffering a headache, and if she couldn't do her job, then others would experience the same pain that she and her clan felt now.

That could not happen.

So Amarantha shut her eyes, listened as Cullen stepped forward to read the names of the fallen at Haven, and held her sister close.

Mother Giselle led the group in a song from the Chantry, and Amarantha hummed along to show her support. She ended the song with a prayer to Andraste, and then Sorolan lifted up a prayer of his own to the elven gods.

Once, Amarantha would have been delighted at the sight of the two mindsets coming together, each respecting the other and showing support for a shared pain. It had been her initial desire to see a coming together where elves who worshiped the gods and those who honored Andraste and the Maker. She'd longed for an appreciation of both as she had held. But now she only felt a hollowness inside, one that had been where the love of the gods had once lingered. She'd never felt so betrayed before; the gods had not heard her. It wasn't that she didn't believe in them; she did, in some ways more than ever. But they had not seen fit to help her in her time of need. They had not helped her people. What had the gods done for her?

Was it because she was Andraste's chosen that they turned her backs on her? Did she truly believed she was Andraste's chosen? Her mind instantly whispered 'yes', and she swallowed thickly. Had she abandoned her gods first? Was this retribution for becoming the messenger of a god she did not even worship? By her acceptance of the potential of being Andraste's Herald, had she become like the Dread Wolf in the eyes of the gods? A traitor who deserved only the worst of fates?

Sorolan ended his prayer, and Amarantha felt her heart clench. Her parents and her clan were dead and her gods had abandoned her. For whom did she believe in now?

"Lost, lonely, orphaned. There is still so much but what once meant the world is now dust. To whom do I pledge myself? For whom do I unsheathe my blades?" He paused then said, "For her. For them. For you."

Amarantha glanced to her right to see Cole, who was dressed as normal, save for a large black ribbon around the band of his over-sized hat. Amaryllis peaked from her sister's embrace at the boy, and he smiled at her gently.

"Fire burns, inside and out. Fear burns hotter, brighter. I don't know what to do."

The girl tensed, and Amarantha shot a look at Cole, who ignored her, eyes focused on the younger elf. "It's all right," he said gently, "I won't tell." A gust of wind blew past them, and Amarantha blinked, looking on either side of her, but frowning when she saw nothing.

Amaryllis blinked up at her, her crying ceased and smiled a half-smile.

"I love you," she whispered and Amarantha felt the pain ease.

"I love you too."

With a final word for Mother Giselle, the service ended, and those not part of the clan or inner circle dispersed to return to their duties. Amarantha heard the buzzing and bustle of work returning to Skyhold, and it felt good to have things resume. The world turned on, did not stop and did not wait, and she was ready to catch up.

Sorolan and the others approached her, looking somber and beautiful in their colors. "We spoke early this morning," Sorolan said, "And we have decided that we do not wish to remain here. To do so would be to accept defeat, and we will not be defeated by fear."

Amarantha had expected no less of her people. She was glad to not have been wrong. "Where will you go?"

"We will approach other clans, try to join with them. Clan Lavellan may be a mere memory, but you will see to it that it is a memory never forgotten."

"When will you leave?" Amarantha asked.

"Within the week," Sorolan said, "We are grateful for the Inquisition's hospitality, but I already feel the ache to move beyond these walls."

"I understand," Amarantha said. At that point, Sorolan glanced at Amaryllis.

"I trust you will decide by then if you wish to remain with you sister, or leave with us," he said, and the girl shook her head.

"I already know what I want to do," she said, sidling close to her sister and taking her hand. "I want to stay."

Sorolan nodded, unsurprised, "As I suspected. It would be wise to do so. You need each other," he said, glancing at both girl's knowingly. "You were never apart for long, and it should not be so."

"Ma seranas," the two said at once, causing Sorolan to chuckle.

"We will write, when we are settled and safe. But we must make our arrangements now. We do not wish to linger. There is too much sorrow here."

"Anything you require of us, you shall have it," Amarantha promised, "Merely say the word."

"Then allow me to return our thanks."

With that Sorolan moved away, and the few members of the clan left followed after bidding their own brief thank you's to the Inquisitor. When they were gone, Amarantha knelt down in front of her sister, brushing her chin length hair out of her face. "What made you want to stay?"

"Why would I want to leave?" Her sister countered, "You're here."

"Yes I am," Amarantha promised, "And I’m not going anywhere."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Sorolan sings is from the Dragon Age Wiki. It's supposed to be a song of mourning and sorrow. 
> 
> I hope everyone has a happy and safe Halloween! I'll be going to see Crimson Peak later, so I'm excited for that. 
> 
> Once more, thank you everyone who is joining me on this journey. You are greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Amarantha decides to take her sister's advice to heart; Amaryllis has brought with her a dark secret.


	12. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amarantha decides to take her sister's advice to heart; Amaryllis has brought with her a dark secret.

Chapter Twelve: Secrets

 

It was bittersweet, saying goodbye to her clan for what could arguably be the last time. They’d stayed a week longer than anticipated, but had finally insisted they move on. They were going to travel west, searching for other Dalish clans, and see about merging. A clan of twelve could not survive, and the Lavellans had not wished to remain idle; the ways of their people ran too deeply in their blood. And so Amarantha and Amaryllis stood at the gates, bidding farewell to the remainder of their people.

 

At the insistence of Cullen, the group would be escorted by a few Inquisition soldiers. The clan had not wanted to impose, but Amarantha had stood beside her commander and insisted. "It's the least we can do," she'd said.

 

"You already do so much," Sorolan said.

 

"I only do what I feel is necessary," she replied, "And your safety is necessary."

 

"Ma serenas," he said, before reaching out to hug her. She returned the embrace, then Sorolan knelt to Amaryllis. "Fare well, da'len," he whispered, then hugged her. She returned the embrace, then Sorolan stood, staff in hand, and instructed his people to make their way. The sisters watched until they disappeared across the bridge, and suddenly the world felt empty, even as it sped up and things slipped into normalcy.

 

"Well," Amarantha said, pushing her shoulders back and turning toward the main hall, "To work, then." Amaryllis nodded, and followed her sister back inside the fortress.

 

By the following day, Amaryllis decided that she liked following her sister. She didn't quite understand what her sister did as the Inquisitor, but she could tell it was all important. People constantly approached her, asking for opinions or advice, or to sign papers or to make decisions. Amarantha did as requested, calm and rational and kind. She listened to everyone with the same equal patience she'd always offered, and referred to others when she did not know what to do.

 

Amaryllis thought Amarantha made a good leader. Though she wasn't very good about being told what to do when it came to the Commander. He'd come by that morning after the clan had left- which had left a small hole in her heart that Amaryllis tried to ignore- and the two had smiled and made eyes at each other in such a way that Amaryllis wanted to push one of them until they were forced to hug. It would be amusing as much as it would make her sister stop being so foolish. Even as they were professional with each other, there was still that energy between them that Amaryllis had never experienced but still recognized. Her grandmother had worn that look when she’d speak of their grandfather. Amaryllis rolled her eyes when the Commander left, his hand hovering slightly outstretched for a moment before dropping it back to his side. People could be so stubborn.

 

"I know that look," Amarantha said as she continued looking at a report, "You're annoyed with me."

 

"Because you're stubborn."

 

"Says the girl who almost drowned because she wanted to catch one specific fish in a lake full of hundreds."

 

"It was pretty," Amaryllis countered, "And I was seven, and silly. You're old, and still silly."

 

"I am hardly old," Amarantha said, looking up in mock anger, "I'm twenty-four, I'll have you know. And how am I silly?"

 

"I'm twelve. You’re old to me,” Amaryllis said with a shrug, "And you're silly because you still won't tell the Commander you like him." At her sister's glare Amaryllis added, "I've been here almost two weeks and I can tell."

 

"I've told you it's not that simple," Amarantha said, reluctant to have this conversation once more. She'd just lost her family; now was not the time to start seeking out a romance. Not when there was so much to be done.

 

"Silly and stubborn," Amaryllis said, "I won't be like that when I get old."

 

"Keep calling me old, see what happens." The threat was a playful one, and it warmed Amarantha's heart to be able to exchange banter with her little sister. There had been several moments in the weeks before when she feared she may never get to do it again. It did not ease the pain of her parent's loss, and indeed she felt that sting pierce her hard, but she had her sister, and it was a miracle in itself.

 

Amaryllis moved closer to the desk, looking at the various reports that were strewn across the wood. "Is this all you do?"

 

"What read report after report after report? Some days it feels like it."

 

"Can I help?"

 

"I'd say yes, but Josie would kill me if I let my little sister decide upon the alliance with the-" she glanced at the paper and read carefully, "The Trevelyan family."

 

"Then what can I do?"

 

Amarantha thought for a moment, then looked up, suddenly serious. "You could go play. Be a child. Run, climb."

 

"I'm not a child anymore," Amaryllis murmured sharply, "I can't be now."

 

"Why not?" Amaryllis asked with concern, moving around the desk to where her sister was sitting.

 

"Because of what happened at the camp," she whispered, "I don't think I can be the same anymore."

 

Running thin fingers through her sister's golden hair, Amarantha nodded in understanding. "War changes people," she said, turning her hand over to allow her sister to see the jagged cut on her hand that was the anchor. Amaryllis gasped at the sight, and ran her fingers over the mark cautiously. It sparked at her touch, causing both girls to jump. They looked at each other and laughed nervously. It pulsed again, the beating dull but unpleasant.

 

"Some people may think it doesn't always change people for the better," her sister continued as Amaryllis continued to touch the mark, "But I think we ultimately get to decide how we allow the inevitable to affect us. We can fear it and let it control us, or we can take it for ourselves, and not be overcome." She closed her hand, capturing her sister's hand in hers, "I'm changed. This mark sealed my fate as the leader of the Inquisition, but I decide how to lead. I decide how this ends. You're changed now, too. This war touched the one place I hoped it would pass over, but it's too late for wishing. The only thing you can do now is decide what you're going to do with that change. Will you succumb to it, or will you use it for good?"

 

Amaryllis considered it for a moment, then rested her other hand on their joined ones. "I'm going to help you defeat Corypheus."

 

The words brought a smile to Amarantha's lips. "Good girl."

 

\-----------------

 

Some of Amarantha's friends had joined her later on that day, and once it became clear that her sister was utterly distracted by the large, friendly Qunari, and the handsome mage with the mustache, Amaryllis slipped out of the room, deciding to explore Skyhold on her own. She'd hardly had a moment alone since she arrived several days before, though she was utterly grateful for her sister's attention. As it was, the two of them had been close, but together they had been solitary, and now that Amarantha was leader of a large kingdom, or so it seemed to the young girl, she looked forward to a moment alone. She had some things to consider, and they were easier thought about without her sister around.

 

She made her way to the battlements, blinking curiously as the soldiers and others she passed nodded their heads and greeted her with, 'My lady." Humans were odd, she decided, and chose not to argue with all those that referred to her by such an odd title.

 

She leaned over one of the lower parts of the battlements, her small stature making it hard for her to see over the large stone pillars that lined the walls. She curled up in between two of them, feeling much like she was sitting on a tree branch back home. Though, this was home now, she supposed. Home had never been much of an important notion to her, always feeling secure with her parents, grandmother, and sister. They were home. But then Grandmamae had passed, and Amarantha had left, and now her parents were dead.

 

Anger rose up in her, and she felt the tears come fresh. She hated the men who'd done this to her, who changed her by taking away her family. Her fists clenched and she felt hot and full of rage. But then her sister's words echoed in her mind, and she felt a coldness take over the heat of anger, and she calmed. She was changed, but she would decide what change that was. And she knew exactly what she needed to do now. This was not something she was ready to discuss with her sister, but there was someone else who came to mind, and she slipped out of her little crevice, stopping to ask a guard if he could direct her back to the rotunda where Solas often stayed.

 

When she arrived, Solas was cleaning away the books on his desk, oblivious to her intrusion. Amaryllis took a moment to study the elf. He was tall, though most people seemed that way to her, and he carried a heaviness about him that seemed ancient. He looked weary too, Amaryllis thought, and she supposed that made sense. She was weary. The world was weary. Things were not good now, and when the world was not at peace, it made it difficult for those who lived within to rest as well.

 

Clearing her throat, she called attention to herself. Solas looked up, smiling pleasantly as she stood at the doorway, waiting for permission to enter further.

 

"Lady Amaryllis," Solas greeted in a calm, lullaby voice, "Come in."

 

"Why does everyone call me that?" She asked, "I'm not a Lady."

 

"It is a title of respect," Solas explained as he sat on the couch, patting the spot beside him, "As the sister to the Inquisitor, people will refer to you respectfully." He paused then added, "It is a strange title to bear, isn't it?"

 

"Everything about this place is strange," she admitted as she joined the older elf on the sofa. “But I think I like it.”

 

"I am pleased to hear it,” Solas smiled, “But you did not come here to talk about the peculiarities of Skyhold.” He looked at her knowingly. "Come, what is on your mind, da'len?"

 

She sat there for a long moment, debating with herself on whether to follow through. She knew she needed to, but she wasn't entirely sure if she could trust the man beside her. He seemed nice, and Amaryllis had always trusted her sister's judgement. It was time to trust her own as well. She liked this man, for all that she knew nothing about him. But there was a kindness to him, an acceptance, an understanding. She needed those things right now.

 

"I have to tell you something," she said at length, "But you can't tell anyone."

 

"A secret?" Solas said with a raised brow, "I am quite skilled at keeping secrets."

 

That made her feel better, and so she shifted, pulling her bare feet on the sofa and tucking them under her. She held out her hands in front of Solas who moved to sit in the same position to better face her. Her hands hovered between them and Amaryllis squinted at them, staring hard with intense focus until a tiny burst of fire shot up from her palms. Solas jerked back on instinct, then looked at the young girl with pride.

 

"You are a mage."

 

Amaryllis nodded, looking down at her hands as if they were not hers. Afraid but in awe.

 

"How long have you known?" Solas asked her. The girl hesitated then replied.

 

"When I.....killed one of the bandits that attacked my parents. I was afraid and threw my hands out to protect us.” She demonstrated the motion. “The fire just....." she paused, unable to think of the words, and blew air out of her cheeks while moving her hands in a circle in front of her, indicating an explosion.

 

"It was instinctual, then," Solas said, "You reacted emotionally." He took her hands in his, holding them up and silently demanding that she look at them. "You have always held the potential, but nothing caused you so much feeling that you could no longer contain it. You lacked control." At her hesitant nod, he continued, "Control can be learned."

 

"I don't like feeling out of control."

 

"Then what would you ask of me? You did not tell me this for nothing," Solas pressed eagerly, knowing what she wanted before it was even voiced.

 

Icy-grey eyes met, and with resolve Amaryllis said, "You’re an elf. And a mage too. I want you to teach me how to control it."

 

A wolfish grin overcame Solas' features. "I would be honored."

 

\----------------

 

It was nearing sunset, and Amarantha hadn't been outside at all that day. Now that her clan had departed, she had plenty of things to catch up on. There was an impending trip back to the Hinterlands, as well as a trip to the Fallow Mire, something to which she did _not_ look forward. And she was still waiting on word from Hawke, who had been pulled off on some other personal quest.

 

Amaryllis had left her earlier that afternoon to venture around Skyhold, and while a part of the elder sister felt a slight apprehension at not having her sister within eyesight, she knew it was foolish to even consider the possibility of keeping the girl at her side at all times. Skyhold was a safe place, more a haven than the namesake fortress had ever been, and she knew that her friends and allies would keep an eye on the girl.

 

Dropping the report she'd been holding to her desk, Amarantha let out a groan. She'd been reading all day, making decisions all day, and she felt that she could scream if she had to read another report about petty land squabbles or requisitions, or the gods knew what else. Laying her head on the desk, her hands stretched out in front of her over the papers, which she had stacked according to area and urgency. She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

 

Her mind drifted, catching her unawares as her thoughts settled on her parents. She thought back to the last time she'd seen them, at the edge of the camp before she'd made her way to the conclave. They'd been happy for her, but reluctant to see her go, and she'd hugged them both and promised she'd be back before they had the chance to miss her.

 

She'd never been so wrong.

 

She had written, and there had been some closure in that, that she had her parent's words to her preserved in writing. It was a small comfort, as was having her sister. Amarantha smiled. Her sister; stubborn, naive, bright, beautiful Amaryllis. Amarantha had relished being an only child, but she had fallen in love with her bright-eyed sibling the moment her mother had laid her in her arms at the tender age of fifteen. It had been love at first sight, and Amarantha recalled the elation of taking her sister out hunting with her for the very first time. Amaryllis had been so curious, so well-behaved, and so entertaining to watch. Now she was growing into a beautiful young woman, just as bright and and stubborn as she'd always been. She would be a force to be reckoned with, Amarantha thought. Though her grandmother had said the same about her. It was hard to judge herself from an objective point of view, but she hoped that she was living up to that expectation.

 

As she continued to think about her little twin, as the clan had often referred to her, her mind began replaying what her sister had said to her earlier that day. With the death of her family, and with seeing its very real impact on the handful of Lavellans who had made the brief trip to Skyhold, Amarantha was very much aware of just how sudden and short life could be. Men had been lost, before, during, and even after Haven, but Amarantha had never truly allowed that truth to sink in. Now it was. And though she was mourning, grieving, she couldn't help but think her sister, innocent little child that she was - though how much of that innocence was left now, thanks to her witnessing her parent's death Amarantha didn't know - might be right. Perhaps it _was_ silly to not tell Cullen how she felt. Amaryllis seemed convinced that he returned her affections, and even Josephine teased her about them on occasion. Surely the ambassador wouldn't encourage such a thing if there was no precedence for it.

 

Once more Amarantha recalled her grandmother, who had spoken of her lover, the girls’ grandfather with such sad regret. He'd been taken so suddenly from her, and had never known that their bond had produced a child. Grandmamae Albizia had always regretted that, and Amarantha had witnessed enough of that pain to know she did not want to experience it. They were at war; she was the Inquisitor and her decisions affected more than just her. _But they were at war:_ if she were to die tomorrow, she wanted it to be known that she cared for the Commander. Amaryllis was right. It was time to stop being stubborn.

 

She’d almost lost him once, when she’d walked out of Haven to face Corypheus. It seemed to always be at the face of death that she chose to follow her heart. Standing quickly, Amarantha rushed out of the room, intent on finding Cullen before her resolve fled.

 

She took the long way round, needing the air to clear her head so that she could think of what to say. She knew that if she took too long, she'd talk herself out of it. And that wasn't an option. There would be no talking herself out of this. Not when she'd already lost so much. She was ready to gain something good. Selfish as it might feel, to seek out happiness during such a dark time, she knew that it was the right thing to do. Amaryllis believe it with such strong conviction. Why shouldn’t she try?

 

Eventually she found her way to his office, and was relieved to see that he was alone. He looked up at the sound of her entrance her and smiled, stepping forward and tilting his head respectfully. "Inquisitor."

 

That was something she adored about Cullen. He was always respectful; always polite. He was the epitome of professionalism at the war table, which was always appreciated, and despite their awkwardness outside that room, they worked well together. Not to mention his penchant for comforting her. He took that role seriously as well, and had been there for her more than almost anyone else. Amarantha took a breath. This could work.

 

"I wanted to talk to you," she said, her throat feeling thick and the words heavy and fumbling, "Alone."

 

"Alone?" He echoed, brows raising high on his forehead in surprise. "I mean, um, yes. Of course."

 

He motioned for her to follow him to the barracks outside his office. It was an area still under construction, so it was less busy than some of the other walkways, like the one leading to his office from the main hall. They walked quietly for a moment, Amarantha trying to force herself to speak, but the words weighed heavily on her tongue, like the sticky sweet molasses that Sera had convinced her to try once.

"It's a nice day," Cullen said after a moment, dragging Amarantha out of herself.

 

"What?"

 

Cullen's hand went to the back of his neck, scratching as he looked away. "I um...you wanted to talk?"

 

Amarantha nodded, then stopped walking and turned, pressing her back against one of the stone blocks that stood up from the wall. "Yes," she said slowly, then sighed and decided to just speak. Whatever she said would be from the heart, and he could accept it or reject it. She needed to say _something_.

 

“I wanted to thank you,” she said, mentally cursing herself for starting with such a ridiculous thing. But it was too late to start anew, so she carried, “For all that you’ve done for me.”

 

“It is my pleasure,” He said, then winced, “I mean, I take no pleasure in…” he paused to sigh. “You’re welcome,” he finished lamely. Seeing him so nervous eased some of the tension in her own gut. They were fools, both of them.

 

“Cullen,” she started, “I- I wanted to talk to you about Haven.”

 

“Haven?” He stopped walking, and Amarantha turned to face him. 

 

“Yes,” she said, tucking a long strand of hair behind her pointed ear. “Specifically what happened between us.”

 

His cheeks burned red, signaling to the elf that he remembered the moment in question clearly. “Yes,” he mumbled shyly, “You, ah, kissed me.”

 

She nodded. “Yes. And then I never offered to tell you _why_.”

 

“Why.” He echoed.

 

She cleared her throat, a nervous gesture, then continued, “Cullen. I don’t think it’s a secret that we both thought I was going to die that day.” The stricken, sick look on his face hinted that he _had_ thought that. “And I...I wanted you to know how I felt, in case I _didn’t_ make it back. But I did, and then I.... I don’t know,” she sighed, “Decided that both of us being alive was good enough. Or that it wasn’t _right_ to persue something when so many people are facing devastation and sorrow.” Her arms crossed over her chest, and she blew a strand of hair out of her face, “But my family is gone now, and I keep thinking that at any moment, all of this could be gone,” she gestured with her hand, indicating all of Skyhold. “And I don’t want to wait until something _else_ happens before I finally get the courage to tell you how I feel about you.” She chuckled nervously, “So, here I am.”

 

She lifted her eyes to him, forcing herself to be brave, and caught him staring at her with mouth agape, blinking several times as if he might be in a dream. He seemed to realize what he was doing and snapped his mouth shut.

“And… how do you feel?” He asked softly, looking hopeful and taking a careful step closer to her.

 

"I care for you,” she said breathlessly, the words slipping out with an ease that was unexpected. How right it felt, to finally tell him the truth. “So very much.”

 

Cullen smiled at that, a soft, gentle, relieved thing that Amarantha almost missed. He stepped forward again, not so shy anymore, and slowly let his hands fall to her waist. "I care for you too.” His voice was soft, a whisper in the wind that wrapped around her heart, soothing the ache that had weighed it down for so long.

 

"What should we do about that, then?" She asked, looking up at Cullen hopefully.

 

"We should probably have a long talk," he said, inching ever closer, "Discuss what this means for us, for the Inquisition. Our decisions do not affect just us."

 

"No they don’t," she agreed, "And there is the issue of my being Dalish-"

 

"That's never been an issue," Cullen said quickly, looking affronted that she would even worry that he might not care for her because of who she was.

 

"I’m also the Inquisitor-"

 

"And I'm the Commander of the Inquisition's forces. But I'm sure we can remain professional-"

 

"Oh, absolutely."

 

"There's also your sister to consider-"

Amarantha cut him off. "She will never let me live down the fact that she was right."

 

Cullen blinked, pausing his movements. "She knows?"

 

Amarantha nodded and giggled. "She was rather insistent that I tell you how I feel."

 

Cullen’s shoulders shook in silent laugher. He moved closer to her, hands sliding around slowly until she was completely in his embrace. "Remind me to thank her, then."

 

"Maybe later," she said, moving her hands to rest on his arms, squeezing slightly as she drew closer to him, slowly but eagerly.

 

"Commander!"

 

The Inquisitor and Commander jerked away from each other as if they'd been burned. Cullen turned to see one of his soldiers, a young recruit by the name of Jim marching forward with a report in his hand.

 

"Here is the report from Sister Leliana. sir."

 

At Cullen's glare, Jim, brought the report back to his chest and frowned, reminding him gently, "You wanted it right away, sir."

 

"Yes," Cullen said, "But I am in the middle of an important discussion with the Inquisitor."

 

Jim looked from his Commander to the Inquisitor, whose face was bright red. She refused to meet his eyes. Jim swallowed thickly, understanding what he'd just interrupted, and backed away. "I'll just leave it on your desk, then," he said, and Cullen nodded gruffly.

 

"Yes. And speak of this to no one."

 

"Yes, sir," Jim squeaked before turning and rushing back the way he came.

 

With a sigh, Amarantha cursed to herself. "Cullen, if you need to go take care of that, this can-" She was cut off by a pair of lips pressing against hers. She gasped at the sudden impact, but her eyes slid shut as her lips moved against his, inexperienced but gentle under his equally soft touch. She felt one hand slip around her waist once more while the other cupped her cheek, tracing over the lingering remains of the cut on her cheek and tilting her head _just so_ in order to deepen the kiss. She wasted no more time in throwing her arms around the Commander's neck, fingers playing with the fur mantle that sat on his shoulders.

 

He pulled away after a moment, letting his forehead rest against hers. "I'm sorry," he said, breathless but delighted, "That was, um...really nice."

 

"Don't apologize," she said, feeling breathless as well, "That was exactly what I wanted.”

 

Cullen chuckled indulgently at that, then lifted his other hand to her face, his thumbs idly stroking her cheeks and through her long hair. "Oh. Good." Pulling her back to him, he kissed her again, enjoying the peace that settled over them as the world was forgotten for a blissful moment. _Yes_ , Amarantha thought as Cullen’s hold on her tightened and his lips moved to press a line of kisses against her jaw, _It is good._

 

\----------------------

 

Later that evening, both Amaryllis and Amarantha returned to the Inquisitor's quarters where they both slept. Amarantha moved to sit on her bed while Amaryllis sauntered over to the balcony where a small pallet had been set up for her. She stripped out of her clothing and into the tunic she wore on cold nights, and pulled a shawl over her shoulders. On the bed, Amarantha kept her head bowed, trying in vain to hide the smile on her face as she read one last report that Josephine had sent to her a few minutes before.

 

"You look happy," Amaryllis said suspiciously as she watched her sister from the balcony She wanted to be near her sister, but hadn’t taken to the bed quite as easily as Amarantha had. The elder sister glanced up and saw a similar grin threatening its way onto her sister's features.

 

"So do you."

 

Amaryllis shrugged. "I just... think I'm going to like it here.”

 

"Oh. Good," Amarantha said softly, then giggled childishly, ducking her head down to rest on her crossed legs. Amaryllis threw her sister a perplexed look before blowing out the candle at her side and turned to look up at the stars.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those two kids finally got their act together! About time too! 
> 
> And yep. Amaryllis is a mage. What chaos is that going to cause, I wonder? 
> 
> Thank you for the views, kudos, and comments. I am, as always, so grateful for all the support I get for this story. It's very close to my heart and I'm so happy to share it with you. 
> 
> In other Inquisitor-related news, my cat is doing well! Quizzy went for a checkup today and he's improved SO MUCH. So hooray for the fictional Inquisitor getting her man, and hooray for real-life Inquisitor getting healthy! 
> 
> Next chapter: News travels fast in Skyhold; Amaryllis reveals some things to her sister.


	13. Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange things are going on around Skyhold.

Chapter Thirteen: Mystery

 

The sun peaked through the arches of the Inquisitor's bedroom, the soft rays caressing Amarantha's face like that of a lover. Like Cullen had held her the day before. In her groggy state, Amarantha was less inclined to keep her guard up, and sighed softly, her head burying in the pillow as she murmured Cullen's name, the warm joy that radiated within her reflecting the warmth that enveloped her currently.

 

"Told you you liked him."

 

Amarantha was awake and sitting up straight in an instant as she looked to see her sister sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching her with pure amusement.

"Don't! Don't do that," Amarantha cried as she let her hand rest against her chest. "You know I hate when you do that.”

 

"You said the Commander's name, and you had a really stupid look on your face."

 

"My stupid looks are none of your concern, _little sister_."

 

"You had that look last night. And you were acting weird." Amaryllis' eyes lit up. "You told him didn't you!"

 

Amarantha rolled her eyes. "I can't get anything past you, can I?"

 

Amaryllis bounced on the bed. "You told him! You told him! What did he say? Did you kiss? I bet you kissed."

 

"I'm not discussing this with you."

 

"So you _did_ kiss!"

 

Rolling her eyes, but unable to keep from smiling, Amarantha nodded. "Yes, alright, you nosy thing. We kissed. And we're happy. And we _aren't_ telling anyone yet." She glared pointedly at her sister at that last comment.

 

"You told me," the little elf said with a smug grin that could rival Dorian's.

 

"I didn't tell you anything. And since you weren't told anything, you aren't going to _say_ anything. Right?"

 

She stared at her sister pointedly for a long moment. The girl sighed. "I won't say anything."

 

"Thank you."

 

"But I told you he liked you."

 

Amarantha threw one of her throw pillows at the girl who laughed when it hit her. "Go to the mess hall and get breakfast. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us."

 

When Amaryllis didn’t respond, Amarantha turned from her wardrobe to look at her sister in confusion. “Don’t tell me you’re already tired of following me around? I couldn’t get rid of you before.” She smiled at the thought, reminiscing of a time when they had been inseparable, racing through the forests together, laughing and singing and playing. So much had changed since those innocent days.

 

'No," Amaryllis said slowly,carefully,  wringing her hands together. "It's just....I had something else in mind."

 

"Oh?" Amarantha said, resuming her task of pulling out breeches and a tunic. She began to dress as Amaryllis slid off the bed, moving to sit by the hearth to warm herself. She was silent for several long moments, then finally she sighed and answered.

 

"I’m going to study with Solas."

 

Amarantha tossed her sister. "He agreed to teach you?"

 

Amaryllis shrugged. "A little."

 

"Well, what is he teaching you?"

 

If she could trust Solas, she should trust her sister, she reasoned. Amarantha liked Solas, and Dorian, and they were both mages. She didn't think her sister would be upset by the revelation, but it wasn't just the magic. She'd _used_ it against someone. It had been self-defense, but it didn't change the fact that she had done it. But what had her sister said? Define how you changed. She wasn't a killer. She was a helper. And she could use her magic to help people. Amarantha would understand that.

 

"Can I tell you something?"

 

She finished tying her boot, then Amarantha moved to sit next to her sister. Resting her gloved hand on Amaryllis’ shoulder, she said, "You know you can. What's going on, little sister?"

 

Looking down, Amaryllis lifted her hands. "Solas agreed to teach me magic."

 

Amarantha’s eye shot down sharply to her sister’s hands. "Magic?"

 

The little elf nodded.

 

"But you're not...." Amarantha trailed off, then slid off the hearthstone and knelt to face her sister, "Are you a mage?"

 

The girl nodded. "It's why I'm still alive," she whispered, "I accidentally set a bandit on fire that was attacking us."

 

"Oh, sweetheart," Amarantha said, running her hands through her sister's hair, "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

 

"I killed someone with magic I didn't know I had," she whispered tearfully, hands trembling, "And that's bad. I was afraid you’d be mad."

 

"You _protected_ yourself," Amarantha stressed, lifting her other hand to rest on her sister’s. "You did what I have to do all the time out there," she nodded to the world outside, "I'm not a _killer_. I'm a defender. I have to tell myself that, because _yes_ , it hurts. It's not easy. But you didn't do it maliciously. It was self-defense. You should not be burdened by that. And I’m not mad. No one will be."

 

"I'm afraid I'll do it again," she whispered, "Solas...I told him. He's a mage and an elf. I thought he would understand..."

 

"Did he?"

 

Amaryllis nodded. "Yes. He wants to help. He wants to teach me to control it. He thinks I have potential."

 

"You _do_ have potential," Amarantha reiterated instinctively. "And...I'm glad you told me. We'll keep it a secret, if you like."

 

The girl considered it a moment. "...Maybe we don't have to. Will people be mad?"

 

"Of course not. And if they _do_ have a problem, they can come talk to me."

 

Amaryllis laughed, "You can order them to be nice. And they have to obey."

 

"Exactly. Perks of being the Inquisitor.” Amaryllis smirked, standing and tugging on her sister to have her stand as well. Amarantha wrapped her arms around her sibling, breathing her in and thanking the gods that she’d made it out of the encampment alive. "You can tell me anything, you know that right?"

 

Amaryllis nodded. "Yes."

 

"Good. Now, let's go eat. You can tease me more about Cullen before you meet Solas.”

 

That perked the girl up, and she followed her sister out of the room, a bounce in her step and excitement in her heart.  

 

\----------

 

Once breakfast was over, Amarantha decided to escort her sister to the rotunda where Solas no doubt was. She thanked Solas for his efforts, and he merely bowed his head, claiming that a mage with such talent as Amaryllis _needed_ to be taught so that her ability would not be wasted. Comforted by his assessment of her sister, Amarantha left them to their work and made her way to the Commander's office, deciding to visit him before they had their morning meeting in the war room.

 

He seemed pleased when she entered, and moved around his desk to greet her with a kiss to her lips. Amarantha melted into him almost instantly, and it was incredible how easy it was. It was natural, as if it were always meant to be this way.

 

"Where's your shadow?" Cullen asked when they broke apart, "She's normally with you for the war meetings."

 

"She's with Solas today," Amarantha said and Cullen felt his heart warm at the absolute look of pride on Amarantha's face. To see such love between siblings made him long to see his own again. _Perhaps soon,_ he thought to himself, _once this mess is over._

 

"Seems the Lavellan sisters are quite studious," he teased, stepping back as he took both Amarantha's hands in his. The mark sparked, a signal of her fluttering heartbeat, and Cullen squeezed the hand affectionately. "Can't say I'm surprised; she's so like you." That made the Inquisitor's smile widen and Cullen pulled her back with him to his desk, where he let go of her to grab his reports to prepare of their meeting. "So what is she studying? Elven history? Stoicism?"

 

That made Amarantha laugh heartily, clutching at her sides as she melodic sound filled the room. She sobered a moment later, then looked at Cullen studiously for a moment. "Probably," she agreed, "But he's-” she paused. Amaryllis had been afraid to say anything because she’d feared people’s reactions. And Cullen had already admitted to his own struggles with mages before. Dare she mention it, now when things were still new and fragile between them?

 

 _I want him to accept us both as we are,_ she thought decidedly _, and that includes magic._

 

Decided, she finished. “He’s actually teaching her magic."

 

Cullen took a sharp breath. "Magic? Then she's a-"

 

"Mage, yes."

 

He stood silent for a moment. His past with mages was not a pleasant one, and he regretted his actions and beliefs from that time. He was a changed man, or so he hoped, and suddenly he feared that those latent opinions, those harmful thoughts that had caused him to be so unkind once before might come back. The last thing he wanted was to mistrust the sweet little girl, but some of those prejudices ran deep, and he still caught himself thinking things that shamed him.

 

"I apologize if this was common knowledge, I didn't-"

 

"It's not," Amarantha quickly assured him. "I only found out this morning. She.... recently.... discovered it herself." The look she gave him spoke volumes, and all the uncertainty he was afraid of feeling vanished like dust. The girl had realized her powers during the attack. She'd been so afraid that all that dormant power had come forth. Cullen knew enough about mages to know how they worked. He'd seen people's powers borne in an instant. How terrifying it must have been for the girl! He breathed a sigh and looked at Amarantha with compassion.

 

"Is she alright?"

 

"She's coping. I think she'll find comfort in learning how to handle it all. She's...she likes control. Control will help, I think.”

 

Stepping forward, Cullen wrapped his free hand around her waist, pressing his forehead to her. "I'll protect her," he swore, the words coming out before he truly had a chance to reconcile them, "You have my word that when you are not here, I will look out for her. I may not be part of the Order, but I _am_ still a Templar."

 

"I appreciate that,”Amarantha answered, lifting her fingers to brush over his lips, “It will put my mind at ease, knowing she's with you."

 

"Anything I can do, you need only ask it of me," he swore, then glanced down, his cheeks turning red, "Speaking of which, how are you...my...my dear?"

 

Amarantha giggled at the term of endearment, biting her lips to stifle the sound. "I'm...happy, all things considered. I feel a little guilty at being so…. but I can’t help it.”

 

"We’ve all endured much,” he replied, “Don’t deny yourself happiness just because you think you shouldn’t be.”

 

“You struggle with it too, then?”

 

“Without a doubt,” he answered, “This doesn’t seem real….but I’m so glad it is.”

 

Amarantha pressed herself closer, letting her lips brush his gently. “Me too.”

 

They made their way to the war room after that, cutting through the rotunda where Solas was holding a flame in his hand, holding it out to Amaryllis to observe. He put it away when the couple walked through, and Amaryllis glanced at her sister with a wide, excited grin. Amarantha said nothing, merely winked at the girl, and kept on. Amaryllis winked back, then returned her attention to Solas, who created another ball of fire, and held it out for the girl to study.

 

They moved through the hall, which was bustling with visiting nobles and other guests, servants and workers moving silently and quickly through the crowd as they moved from one task to the next. As Cullen and the Inquisitor passed one particular group of women, the eldest one, a plump woman with a tacky sense of fashion muttered in a snooty tone, "Well, don't they look quite cheerful this morning..."

 

The others in her party murmured their agreement, and Amarantha bristled as they walked. Beside her Cullen whispered, "Pay them no mind."

 

She growled in response, but continued walking. They entered Josephine's office, and Amarantha stopped at the ambassador's desk to bid her a good morning. Cullen waved to them both and moved on toward the war room to prepare. They joined him a few minutes later with Leliana and Cassandra in tow, and after a few minutes spent talking Josephine called the meeting to order and they set to work.

 

While Cassandra held the Inquisitor's attention discussing an important matter, Leliana stepped closer to the Commander who was organizing the figurines on the map. "You look quite at ease today," she said in that calm, knowing manner of hers, "I can only begin to guess at what has put the Commander in such high spirits."

 

"Guess all you like," he replied pleasantly, "But I think our efforts might be best focused on the situation at hand."

 

"Yes, yes, Corypheus is planning an attack, there are several issues in the Hissing Wastes, and _you_ my dear Commander, are glowing. I cannot help but wonder why that might be." Her eyes traveled across the table where Amarantha and Cassandra had stopped talking and were watching the Commander and Spymaster. Shaking his head, Cullen looked away, his eyes meeting Amarantha's, who merely smiled and shrugged helplessly.

 

"If you must know," Amarantha said, waiting a moment for Cullen to protest. When he didn't, merely looked at her with amused exasperation, she continued, "Cullen and I have come to an agreement on something."

 

Josephine gasped. "Is it what I think it is?”

 

"It is," she said, cutting everyone off by adding, "We agreed that I should probably spend two weeks in The Hissing Wastes instead of just one. "

 

Josephine’s face fell, Leliana snickered behind her hand, and Cullen let out a laugh, which he then stifled by making a coughing sound. After a moment, he stood up straight and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "That's correct, he said, "It would be the most beneficial. There are issues there that Inquisitor Amarantha needs to address directly. We can send delegates to the Hinterlands to deal with the few issues that have come up there. They are important, but not necessarily urgent."

 

He paused, glanced at Amarantha who smiled and offered a light hearted shrug, silently giving her approval. Cullen nodded and glanced at Josephine smugly, “And Amarantha and I are together.”

 

Three females shrieks pierced the air, and both Cullen and Amarantha winced at the sharp sound. The three women each smiled, laughed, and shouted at each other to 'pay up!' leaving Cullen and Amarantha staring at each other in horrified amusement. Apparently bets had been placed. She’d thought her sister was just ridiculous, but apparently their affection for each other had been far more obvious than either of them realized.

 

"Well," Amarantha said, after Josephine had finished hugging her for helping her win thirty gold, "Now that's out of the way, shall we continue?"

 

When the meeting adjourned an hour later, Cullen took his time picking up his reports and stacking them together. Josephine, Cassandra, and Amarantha talked for a few minutes, the occasional hushed whisper escaping. Eventually they turned to leave, Amarantha's shout for them to stay silent chasing them out of the room. The large wooden door slammed with a thud, and once more Amarantha and Cullen were alone. It was nearing lunch time, and through the windows the sounds of men and women chatting as they made their way to the Herald’s Rest crept in.

 

Cullen and Amarantha looked at each other, then Amarantha moved around the table, coming to stand in front of Cullen, blocking him from his reports. "Apparently we're not very good about keeping things to ourselves."

 

"I suppose it can’t be helped on my end," he stated with a helpless chuckle, “I’m quite pleased about the whole thing.”

 

Amarantha smiled. "Yes, well, Amaryllis figured it out last night. She took _one look_ at me and knew. I also apparently talk in my sleep," she said sheepishly, flushing as she lowered her eyes.

 

"Apparently there are already rumors in the barracks, too," Cullen acknowledged after a short laugh, "But as much as I'd like to keep things private, I suppose I should be grateful there's even anything to talk about at all."

 

"Always look on the bright side," Amarantha agreed. "Though I'm relieved that my sister knows. And approves. I detest keeping things from her. Not that _that_ apparently works anymore,” she added dryly.

 

"I’m still surprised she’s so accepting." Cullen remarked.

 

Rolling her eyes, Amarantha explained, "I may have told her a… lot…. about my feelings for you in my letters home. She has been on my case from the moment she arrived to tell you how I felt. She was quite pleased with herself that she convinced the silly adult to actually listen to her."

 

" _I_ _'m_ pleased the silly adult listened to her," Cullen said, his gaze turning thoughtful. "I think she's going to be trouble."

 

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," Amarantha agreed, "And now that she's here with me _and_ she's a mage, well, I almost feel bad for Skyhold."

 

"Turn that mischief toward Corypheus," he said kindly, "And perhaps he'll rethink his entire plan."

 

"Oh, I don't doubt it at all," Amarantha agreed, "The Lavellan sisters are a force to be reckoned with!"

 

"Then I shall consider myself lucky to be in their favor," he said before placing a chaste kiss to the Inquisitor's lips. "Let's meet tonight, after supper, if you'd like."

 

"I think I can slip away," she replied slyly. Cullen flushed.

 

"Good. Ah, um, well.... we should get back to work, then." Agreeing, Amarantha slipped away from Cullen, and with one last kiss at the door of Josephine's office - where they purposely ignored the ambassador's sigh of delight, they went their separate ways.

 

Waiting until the Inquisitor disappeared, Cullen made his way toward his office, entering the rotunda and slowing his steps to inspect the area. Solas was present, but there was no sign of the little Lavellan, so he stopped and cleared his throat to gain Solas' attention.

 

"Yes?" The elf asked.

 

"Where is Amaryllis?" The Commander asked, glancing around.

 

"She is with Dorian and Iron Bull. Horrible examples, but they wanted to have lunch with her. Why do you ask?"

 

"I actually need to talk to you about something. I have an idea. Regarding Amaryllis. And I need it to be kept just between us."  

 

Solas turned to stare at the Commander, his brow raised in suspicion. "I'm listening."

 

\--------------

 

The rest of the day was spent planning the upcoming trip that loomed in front of her. Amarantha was glad to get out and do some more hands on work, but she also felt the slightest hesitation at leaving her sister. She knew the girl would be fine, surrounded by friends and those who cared, not to mention Cullen would be here to keep an eye on her. Still, she felt a slight reluctance to leave, but consoled herself that it was only temporary, and that it was for the greater good.

 

She met with Cullen, where they talked about some of the more intricate aspects of their relationship. It was approached directly and simply, any and all concerns about their relationship affecting other aspects of the Inquisition were brought to light and quickly resolved. They worked well together, and when Amarantha left later that evening, her cheeks burning and lips tingling, she felt lighter than she had in a long time.

 

Upon entering her room, she saw her sister sitting on the large bed, a book in hand. There were a few other books scattered around the room as well, making the large space seem a little more homey. Amarantha used the room only to sleep, so she had not spent much time making it into a space to call her own. Amaryllis helped in that area, making it seem less lonely and empty.

 

"How was your lesson?" She asked as she moved across the room toward the balcony where Amaryllis' belongings were piled. She'd come with a large knapsack with the remains of her and their families' belongings and some of them were lying out, small mementos of a life now perished.

 

"It was fine," the girl said, "I didn't do any magic. Solas wants me to become comfortable around magic first. He says that it's like any weapon; you have to be unafraid of it and trust it before you can wield it."

 

"Sounds like sage advice," Amarantha said as she hopped onto her desk, studying her sister for a long moment. "Did all these books come from him?"

 

Amaryllis shook her head. "I visited Dorian" she confessed, "And asked for some different books. He helped me find what I was looking for."

 

"What were you looking for?"

 

Sliding off the bed, Amaryllis moved to the desk and handed her sister the book she'd been holding. "A History of Thedas," Amarantha read the title, then remarked sarcastically,“Ah, so just a little light reading before bed.”

 

"I’m just curious," Amaryllis shrugged.” Dorian said it might be useful to know.”

 

“Can’t argue with that,” Amarantha agreed as she flipped through the book. While she did, Amaryllis opened her bag, where she dug around for a minute before retrieving another book. It was old, pages worn at the edges and slightly yellowed. The cover was leather, dark and well-cared for despite the age. There was a strap that connected the front and back coverings together, and a circular indenture on the front, that was split in two, and bore a strange marking in the middle, separating the two halves of the circle, which was surrounded by an inscription. Amaryllis held the book out.

 

"Speaking of books..."

 

Amarantha took the book, staring at it in confusion. "What is this?"

 

"I found it in Mamae's trunk. Buried at the bottom and wrapped in some old cloth. I don't know what it is. But it looked interesting." She pointed the the inscription and continued, "And it's locked. See? There's a clue here."

 

Amarantha squinted to read the writing, written in a curved pattern, but was clearly Elvhen, ancient. She couldn't make out all of it, but she understood several key phrases. "Blood, wolf, spill." The older sister looked up, brushing her hair out of her face. "That makes no sense."

 

"I know. I didn't understand why I couldn't read it all at first, but then Solas told me today that the ancient elves spoke a different language. What we are able to speak now is similar but not fully intact and kinda different. I guess this is ancient Elvhen, then."

 

"Why would Mamae have such a strange book?" Amarantha asked, pulling at the leather strap and clawing at the circular mark. "And why keep it hidden?"

 

"Maybe Mamae had a secret," Amaryllis said with a shrug, "Or maybe she was keeping it for someone else?"

 

"Maybe," Amarantha said, laying the book in her lap, "But it's a mystery for another day. We need to rest. Busy day tomorrow."

 

"Lady Josephine said you were leaving," Amaryllis said as she took the book from her sister, slightly bouncing the heavy book in her hands, "When?"

 

"In two days," Amarantha said as she tilted her head back, rubbing her shoulders with her hands to relieve the ache. “To somewhere extremely cold and unpleasant, apparently.”

 

"When will you be back?"

 

"Three weeks,” Amarantha said as she sat on the bed, falling back to rest among the books.

 

"Oh," the girl said, putting the book back in her bag and sagging onto the ground.

 

"It'll be all right," Amarantha said, trying to sound hopeful, "You'll have plenty to do here, and I'll be back before you know it."

 

"You said that last time," the girl murmured, and Amarantha winced at that. She slid off the bed and approached her sister, who was laying on her pallet, looking up at the stars.

 

"Hey," she said, coaxing her sister to her embrace. "This isn't like last time. I _will_ be back. You'll barely have time to miss me."

 

Amaryllis curled into her sister's embrace, reminding Amarantha just how young her sibling was. She sometimes forgot their age difference, and as they'd spent most of their time together before the Inquisition, she'd often treated her as an equal, not a little sister. But Amaryllis really was just a child in many ways, and with that came a childlike insecurity that needed to know that loved ones would be back, and they would be safe. Now that their parents were gone, Amarantha understood why her sister was so reluctant to see her leave. Deciding to try to calm her, Amarantha pressed her lips to her sister's head and began to sing softly.

 

_"Tel'enfenim, da'len_

_Irassal ma ghilas_

_Ma garas mir renan_

_Ara ma'athlan vhenas"_

 

"Mamae used to sing that," Amaryllis whispered.

 

"Does it help?"

 

The girl nodded against her sister's chest. "It makes me feel like she's still here."

 

"Good. Shall I keep singing?"

 

The girl nodded, and Amarantha lifted her voice, singing until they both fell asleep, comforted by the song of their people and the hope that the next three weeks would pass by quickly.

  
  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SO sorry! 
> 
> Man. This is LATE. Saturday was my birthday and I got caught up in celebrating with family. Sunday was the same, and work has been so hectic that by the time I get home I'm ready to collapse. Not a very good excuse, I know, but I finally found some time to get this darn chapter posted! 
> 
> I do bring good news though. I'm nearing the end of this fic (working on chapter 48 right now) and I think, when I finish the last chapter, I'm going to start updating twice a week: Wednesday and Saturday. That won't be for a few more weeks because I want to finish the story so all I have to worry about is editing, but I'll post a notice when the first Wednesday upload will commence. 
> 
> That song came from the Dragon Age Wiki. Here's the translation: 
> 
> Never fear, little one,  
> Wherever you shall go.  
> Follow my voice--  
> I will call you home.  
> I will call you home
> 
> Next Chapter: Cullen atones for mistakes made in his past; Varric gets some unusual advice from Amaryllis.


	14. Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Varric atone for past mistakes. Amaryllis makes a request of her sister.

Chapter Fourteen:

 

The days traveled quickly, each and every moment filled with lessons, exploring, and reading. Amaryllis was finding that even without her sister, there was still plenty to do in Skyhold, and while she missed her greatly, Amaryllis was enjoying herself. She began her mornings with Solas, who had elected to start teaching her to mediate. They worked in silence for a few hours, often starting before the sun had broken over the peaks of the mountains. She would then have breakfast with the elf, who would patiently teach her about the ancient elves, the Fade, and any other questions she had.

 

Later she would flit about Skyhold, watching and learning anything she could. Josephine took great joy in having the little elf take interest in what she did, and she let Amaryllis follow her around during meetings and assist through mountains of paperwork, often using her as a messenger to send notes to other members of the Inquisition.

 

Sometimes she would talk to Vivienne who would proceed to discuss the Chantry, etiquette, as well as the rules to something called 'The Game'. Amaryllis liked games; she was good at them. She decided that while she didn't quite understand this game that the adults insisted on playing, she would excel at it as well. She liked to play, and she liked to win. So she would do just that.

 

She alternated her days with the rest of the group that Amarantha kept around. Sometimes she would follow Varric and listen to his stories, not sure which ones to believe so she believed them all. Other times, she would find Sera, who was much older but still very much a child, and they would play or sit on the roof and eat cookies, and share stories about growing up in vastly different cultures. Blackwall offered a quiet company, and Amaryllis liked to watch him as he worked on his carving. They didn't speak, and that was all right with the girl. He was quiet but kind, and reminded her of her father, who had been the least talkative in the group full of women. He'd not stood a chance against Grandmother Albizia, his wife, or his girls. Amaryllis decided she liked that he was quiet, and would sit with him at night sometimes next to the stables, listening as he hummed strange tunes. Sometimes she would hum her own and he would smile and ruffle her hair.

 

Cole was another quiet presence she enjoyed, when she could find him. He liked to get into her head, and she liked to think funny things in an attempt to make him laugh. They made it a game, and Amaryllis constantly sought out Varric for funny things to think of so that she might make the spirit boy giggle. It didn’t always work, but she was determined to win, and Cole was happy to have a new friend.

 

Some of the companions had gone with Amarantha, and Amaryllis found she missed them almost as much as her sister. Dorian and Bull were funny with their constant bickering, and Cassandra was stern but patient, and one time when she’d sat in the courtyard to watch the woman train, she’d given Amaryllis a wooden sword to practice against the dummies. Amaryllis realized that she was quickly becoming attached to the people here, something that both pleased and frightened her. They were in the middle of a war, the weight of which was still fresh in her mind, and a small part of her feared that anyone she got close to here might be lost to her just as easily as her parents had been.

 

After the first week, she found herself following Cullen more often that not. She understood why her sister liked him: he was handsome, kind, and brave. He was a good fighter, and he always stopped what he was doing to greet her, even if she wandered into his office during an important meeting with soldiers. Cullen would invite her to stand next to him as he went over orders with his men and she would listen in silent wonder as he assigned duties with swift precision. When the soldiers left, he would sit with her and ask her if she had any questions. She always did, and he seemed delighted to teach her his methods.

 

"Perhaps you'll take my place one day," he laughed.

 

"No," Amaryllis said resolutely, "I want to be out there," she pointed outside, "I want to do what my sister does and help.”

 

"Well, from what I've heard from Solas, you're well on your way," Cullen said, cleaning up the scattered papers on his desk.

 

"He says I can start practicing for real tomorrow," she beamed. He had been working with her extensively to prepare her for working with magic, expressing his surprise at how naturally she adapted to being around it.

 

"Well, I'm very pleased to hear that," Cullen said, "You'll be a proper mage in no time."

 

"I hope so," Amaryllis agreed, "I want to use my powers to help people. I don't want anyone else to get hurt like my clan did."

 

Cullen paused a moment, then turned and knelt down to eye level with the girl. "I think," Cullen said slowly, "That is a noble purpose. Your family would be proud."

 

Amaryllis' eyes lit up at that. "I'm glad my sister likes you."

 

Cullen chuckled at that. "I'm glad she likes me too." He thought for a moment, then turned away. "Wait one moment, will you?" He asked as opened up the small cabinet adjacent to his desk and pulled out a package. It was a large box, long and narrow, with a silver ribbon tied around it. "I was going to wait until a more appropriate time," he said, "But seeing as you're starting your lessons tomorrow, perhaps now is as good a time as any."

 

He placed the box on the desk, watching as Amaryllis stared at it with furrowed brows. "What is it?"

 

"It's a gift," Cullen said, "For you. Open it."

 

"Why did you get me a gift?" The girl asked even as she moved closer and started picking at the ribbon. Cullen shrugged.

 

"Do the Dalish not give gifts?"

 

"Not for no reason."

 

"Then," Cullen pursed his lips in thought, "Consider it a congratulations on your advancement in training." He winked, and the girl laughed before pulling the ribbon off the box and slipping the lid off. Her eyes widened and her breath caught as she looked down to see a small, child-sized staff. The handle was wood-carved, with a spiral twist that looped around like a snake to the top. The branches twisted around the end, calling to mind an old, deformed tree that curled around itself in a beautiful yet menacing design. Within the twist of dark wood branches sat a small gem the size of Cullen's hand, shiny in a lovely bright pink.

 

Amaryllis looked at it in awe, slowly reaching out to touch it gently, as if it might snap under a harsher touch. Cullen watched her with amusement. "You can pick it up," he said, "I've been assured that it's strong."

 

Amaryllis wrapped her hands around the staff and carefully lifted it out of the box. She breathed out a sharp breath as she held it, the wood strong but just the right weight in her hands. She trailed her fingers over the carving, staring at the stone that reflected the light of the room and flickered against her eyes, making them shine pink as well.

 

"It feels....right," she whispered, more to herself than to Cullen, "Like my hands weren't complete. But now they are." She looked up at the Commander, her eyes sparkling, "Did you feel this? When you picked up a sword?"

 

"Like it was meant to be?" Cullen asked and the girl nodded. "Yes. The first blade I ever held felt....It felt like I finally knew myself. Like I could do anything."

 

"I can do anything," she repeated, her voice awestruck as she stared at the weapon. She then looked back at Cullen, placed the weapon on the table and lunged toward him, wrapping him in a small, tight embrace. "Thank you."

 

Cullen bent down and wrapped his arms around her. "You're most welcome," he said, "Use it wisely, and use it well."

 

"I will," she said, then flew out of his arms, and picked the staff up, clutching it to her chest. "May I go show Solas?"

 

"It's yours," he laughed, "You may show anyone you wish."

 

She grinned, looking just like her sister, and flew out of the room, clutching the staff tightly in her hand. Cullen watched her go, laughing to himself. He cleared the box out of the way, smiling softly as he thought back to Amaryllis' look of pure amazement. That look meant the world to him. That was the look of a mage done right by him. Cullen ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the slight throbbing at his temple. He'd messed up so much before, his view of mages tainted. Now he had the chance to start afresh, and though it perhaps wasn't the best way to go about it, he saw Amaryllis as his chance for atonement. She could be the mage he took care of, the mage he protected, as a true Templar. She would be the mage that did not fear him, but rather trusted him.

 

And in turn he would trust her. He would remember that she was a precious girl, a beautiful girl, the sister to the woman he loved, and being a mage was just a part of that sweet, mischievous child. Gathering his papers, he left to head to Josephine's office, where he was due to sign off on some requisitions. He walked through the rotunda, where Amarantha was elatedly showing Solas her staff. Solas responded with quiet enthusiasm, pretending to be surprised. He glanced up momentarily as Cullen walked past, and the two men nodded knowingly at each other. Solas’ attention was then drawn away as Amaryllis asked about how to carry the staff, and Solas set to work setting up a harness in which she could carry her new weapon, like a true mage did.

 

\------------------------

 

It had been a long three weeks. Things had taken longer than expected: the Hissing Wastes had been a true nightmare. But the area was better off now, the Inquisition setting up camps and working with the locals to help ensure peace. Amarantha was grateful to be done and hoped never to see sand again.. But despite that major annoyance, it had been a productive trip. But Amarantha was glad to be home.

 

She hadn't had time to write during her travels, and Amaryllis had only written once about halfway through to urge her sister's safe return, and to tell her that her lessons were progressing well. It had been a much needed boost to an otherwise stressful and chaotic time away, and Amarantha was looking forward to getting her reports over with so she could simply _sit_ , and perhaps have a quiet dinner with Amaryllis and Cullen.

 

The thought of those two made her smile widen as she rode across the bridge, and Cassandra shot her a knowing look, her eyes wrinkled in amusement. "Looking forward to being home?" She asked, and Amarantha playfully narrowed her eyes at the Seeker.

 

"Aren't you?"

 

"Of course," Cassandra said, “But when I return I'll simply go back to my books and my practice dummies. You, on the other hand, have.....well, two people quite eager to see you, I'm sure."

 

"I'm sure you have someone just as eager to have you back," Amarantha said with a sly grin. Cassandra studied her for a moment, suspiciously.

 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

 

"You mean you _haven't_ missed constantly arguing with a certain handsome, roguish dwarf?"

 

The Seeker sputtered. "Varric? Of course I haven't missed him! He's a lying, frustrating, insufferable little man! What on earth gave you any inclination that I enjoy his company, let alone crave it when he's absent!"

 

Lifting her hands in defense, Amarantha looked away to stifle a laugh. "Well, ignoring that one little….incident…..you just seem to enjoy fighting with him. I think it's sweet."

 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. "That incident was _hardly_ little!" She glanced back at Dorian and Bull, who were behind the two women, both looking completely amused. "I think those two are a bad influence on you."

 

"Now, now," Dorian chided, "I'm the definition of charm and propriety. I've never set a bad example in my life, I'll have you know."

 

"Lying isn't attractive, 'Vint," Bull said beside him,, though it was without any malice. "And we all know you couldn't bear to think someone found you unattractive."

 

"Now, boys," Amarantha interrupted as they entered the gates to Skyhold. "Let's behave. Especially before I start making suggestions about _your_ feelings for each other. " Cassandra slapped a hand over her mouth to hold back her laugh. Amused, Amarantha glanced back, Bull was smirking, clearly proud of her sarcastic remark, while Dorian blustered and cursed, claiming the last person he'd ever consider being with was the huge Qunari beside him.

 

"I may be last," Bull replied cheekily, "But that means I'm still on the list."

 

"Maker's balls," Dorian huffed, "I'm going to find some civilized people who won't make such outlandish assumptions about me. I thought you would be better than that, my dear Inquisitor."

 

"I only tease because I learned from the best," she replied, "Meaning, you."

 

"I do not tease!" Dorian replied, sticking his nose in the air, "I am a serious man, and never joke or make merry or anything preposterous like that!" He winked at her, then glared at Bull, and slid off his horse to lead it to the stables.  Bull hopped off his steed as well and followed Dorian, calling after him and making an apparently offensive comment.that caused the mage to begin cursing and smack Bull’s arm. It only made Bull laugh.

 

"I _was_ joking, but I'm starting to think maybe I'm right about those two."

 

Cassandra watched them thoughtfully. “It does seem that way. Though I admit I would never have believed it had I not witnessed it myself.."

 

The two women led their horses to the stable, where Bull and Dorian were still arguing. "I suppose everyone is full of surprises these days.” Cassandra led her stallion to its stable, then glanced over at Amarantha. “Including you and the Commander?”

 

“How so?” Amarantha asked.

 

“I’ve known the Commander for some time,” she said, “I suppose I never saw him as someone who would fall in love. Perhaps I viewed him as I do myself: far too dedicated to ever even look up long enough to see someone standing in front of me.”

 

“You’re looking up now,” Amarantha remarked as she joined her friend, walking slowly toward the stairs to the entrance to the main hall, “Perhaps you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

 

"I'm sure I will someday," the Seeker acknowledged, “Though I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”

 

“I’m still standing by what I see,” Amarantha nudged the Seeker with her arm, “So what if he’s a little shorter than you? That means you don’t actually have to look _up_.”

 

Cassandra groaned.  “There are times when I wonder why I didn’t just leave you in that dungeon.”

 

“You know I’ve grown on you.”

 

“Like fungus.”

 

Amarantha cackled at that, drawing attention as they entered the main hall. Varric was at his usual seat, and Amarantha waved to him cheekily before lightly elbowing the Seeker, who nudged back, unable to keep her lips downturned at the elf’s teasing.

 

They entered Josephine's office, where she stood and rushed over to hug the two returning women. Amarantha wanted to resist, claiming she smelled of the road, but Josephine hardly cared. She was a tactile woman with those she was close to, and she never backed away from a hug, no matter how dirty Amarantha was on her return. The three women walked the short distance from the office to the war room, where Leliana and Cullen awaited them. Cullen was facing the door, his lips curling up in a large grin at the sight of Amarantha walking inside. She suddenly felt very self-conscious about her appearance, and tucked a long strand of golden hair behind her pointed ear. Cullen stepped closer, pulled her into his arms and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

 

"Welcome back," he whispered, then released her and took to his usual spot on the other end of the table. "Now, according to your reports," he began, slipping into his professional role with ease. The meeting carried on with Amarantha and Cassandra recounting events and Josephine making notes of follow ups that she would need to make in the weeks to come. An hour later they finished, and Josephine informed the two travelers that baths were waiting for them in their rooms.

 

Cassandra looked relieved and with a quick nod, dashed out of the room, eager for a long soak in hot, fresh smelling water. Amarantha lingered a moment longer, ignoring the amused looks of Leliana and Josie as they exited. As Cullen approached, she gestured to herself and stepped back. “Wouldn’t you rather I look presentable?”  

 

“I hardly mind a little dirt and sand,” he said, taking her into his arms and kissing her soundly, “Though I’m sure you would feel better.”

 

“Very much.”

 

“Then I shall be in my office,” he said, letting go of her, “Though I recommend you find your sister first. She’s been on edge all day. I’m actually surprised she didn’t burst into this meeting to see you.”

 

“I hope she hasn’t been bursting into meetings while I’ve been away!” Amarantha cried, “But yes. I’m eager to see her too. Has she been well?”

 

Nodding, Cullen wrapped an arm around Amarantha's shoulder, slowly walking with her out of the room. Her hand lifted to link through his fingers, and she leaned into him, the feeling the most natural in the world. It had been so easy, looking back, to fall for this man, and the only thing that had held her back was herself. Now they were here, their relationship still new and fragile, but it was right. Amarantha had never known something as sweet and gentle and comforting as her feelings for Cullen, and for all that had happened, for all that had to occur to bring her to this place, she was grateful that she'd met him.

 

"She has," Cullen said, "Though I'm sure she'd like to tell you everything herself. I don't want to spoil anything."

 

"I'm not sure how I feel about you two conspiring," Amarantha remarked, stopping at the door to share another kiss.

 

"Oh, we’ve been quite mischievous,” Cullen declared, “Nothing but havoc has been wreaked on the place in your absence.”

 

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you,” Amarantha replied dryly, slipping out of his arms and heading out the door.

 

She moved up the stairs to her quarters, ready to strip out of her dirt and dust covered clothing, and once she was naked she sank into the tub, still hot and steaming, and sighed deeply as she felt her tight muscles begin to relax.

 

She lay there for some time, then proceeded to lazily wash herself, taking her time and enjoying the luxury of the hot bath. She had not been raised with such things, but she was quickly finding that being Inquisitor had some perks. Hot baths were definitely one of them.

 

As she dried off, steadfastly ignoring her reflection in the mirror, she heard the door open and small feet scamper up the steps. A golden head appeared above the stairwell, and Amaryllis cheered before running to hug her sister, who was still wet and wrapped in a towel.

 

"You're back, you're back!"

 

"I am!" Amarantha said, trying to hug her sister and hold onto the towel at the same time. "And I missed you so much!" She noticed then, the staff strapped to her sister's back. "And I see you have.....where did you get that?"

 

The look of pride on Amaryllis' face was bright and telling. For all that she had been upset by her actions that fateful day, she was pleased to have her magic and was enjoying learning how to wield it.

 

"Cullen gave it to me!" She said excitedly, pulling the staff from its harness and over her shoulder to show her sister. "He said he was proud of me starting my lessons, which are going well! Hahren Solas thinks I'm progressing quickly, and that I'm even advanced for my age!"

 

"Havoc, indeed,” Amarantha murmured to herself. “But I suppose it’s only natural that you’d be proficient in it. You are the Inquisitor's sister."

"I really like it too," Amaryllis said, "I'm going to help people with my magic, be part of the Inquisition!"

 

"You're already part of the Inquisition," Amarantha pointed out as she grabbed a simple tunic and leggings, putting them on over her smalls. She then reached for the wide tooth comb Josephine had gifted her. It was a useful tool, much better than her fingers for untangling knots, and Amarantha set to work slowly braiding her hair by the fire that had been made by one of the servants.

 

Amaryllis came to sit beside her sister, watching her sister’s fingers twist her hair back and forth. "I mean, _really_ part of the Inquisition."

 

"What do you mean by that?" Amarantha asked, as she secured the braid with a small slip of ribbon.

 

"I mean I want to do what you do," Amaryllis said emphatically, "I want to go out and help people. Stop bad people from hurting innocent people. Fight the demons that Cullen talks about with the troops. I want to be out there, doing something. I can't just sit here doing lessons all day."

 

"Of course you can," Amarantha countered, not looking at her sister.

 

"That isn't fair," Amaryllis huffed, "Solas thinks-"

 

"Solas isn't your guardian," Amarantha interrupted, "I trust his assessment of your ability, but you are just now learning. I'm not going to send you out somewhere and risk getting yourself killed."

 

"But you go out. You send people out."

 

"I send out trained soldiers. I go out because I've got years more of experience in fighting than you. You're a child, Amaryllis, I can't put that burden on you."

 

"It's already on me," Amaryllis snapped, "When I killed that bandit-"

 

"You were protecting yourself, and our family," Amarantha snapped back, "It was an accident!"

 

"And I _failed_ ," Amaryllis whispered sharply. "I didn't want to do what I did, but it happened, but it didn't matter! Mamae and Papa are dead. And I don't like knowing that I couldn't help them."

 

"And you think running around recklessly trying to make right your perceived failure is going to help? Amaryllis, I know you want to help-" She reached out to take her sister's hands, "But getting yourself killed isn't going to help. I- I lose people frequently now. People I may not know well, but I'm responsible for them. And I feel that loss greatly. I cannot lose you. Not when you're all I have left."

 

Amaryllis looked down at their joined hands, then turned her sister's hand over where the mark was, touching it softly. "You go off all the time and do things that could get you killed." Amaryllis sniffed, "You're all I have left too."

 

Being Inquisitor had come almost naturally to Amarantha. She had accepted her part in this whole story early on, willing to help, if only at first to prove her innocence. Now she was an active member, a leader, and she had a personal stake against Corypheus. She wanted to be here, and with the loss of her clan, had nowhere else to go. Running headfirst into danger had come with the position, and she'd hardly thought twice about it. Her companions were all capable of making that same decision, and willingly ran alongside her into battle. She wondered how she could ask such a thing of her sister, but then also wondered how she'd ever expected any less of the young girl. Amarantha realized she feared losing the little girl in front of her, but it had never occurred to her that her little sister might fear losing her. And after witnessing her parent's death, how could Amarantha blame her sister wanting to follow her everywhere, even into battle?

 

Added to that was that feeling of failure. Amarantha was all too familiar with feeling like a failure. Now her sister bore that weight too. She thought her own shortcomings had led to the death of their parents. She'd been no more responsible for that than Amarantha had been for the explosion at the Conclave. To deprive her of the chance to atone for her own self-assumed failure would be wrong. Amarantha still sought to do the same.

 

Bowing her head, Amarantha pressed her forehead to her sister's, moving her hand to lift Amaryllis' chin so that she could look at the matching set of eyes. "I'll think on it," she said, "And I'll be talking to the others as well. If we all agree that you need to wait, then you will wait. Understood?"

 

"You really will think about it?"

 

"I'll go talk to the Commander right now, if you wish."

 

Amaryllis made a face. "You just want to go make kissy faces at him."

 

The elder elf pulled back, glaring at her sister playfully. "I'm going to go _talk_ to him about you and- wait, did you say he gave you that staff?"

 

She nodded, reaching over to pick it up from where she'd laid it down previously. "Uh huh!  Isn't it pretty?"

 

Amarantha took a moment to observe the child-sized staff and couldn't help but smile at the thought of Cullen spoiling her sister. "It's lovely. Have you gotten used to it yet?"

 

"Almost," Amaryllis said with pride, "I'll be a real member of the Inquisition in no time."

 

"We'll see," Amarantha said sternly, looking pointedly at her sister.

 

"Can I go practice some more?" She asked, fingers clutching the stave so tight her knuckles were white, "Since you're going to see Cullen?" She elongated the commander's name, then puckered her lips at her sister playfully. Amarantha chose not to acknowledge it.

 

"It's getting late," she said, looking out at the setting sun sinking behind the mountains.

 

"I'll be quiet," she promised, "Most everyone will be at the tavern anyway, and I'm not allowed in there yet."

 

"No, you're not, and that won't change until you're at least thirty."

 

"You're twenty-four and you go!"

 

"Yes, but I'm the Inquisitor," Amarantha said, spinning on her heel, her braid flying out behind her, "So... _ha_." With that she left the room, leaving Amaryllis behind to glare daggers at the empty spot before her.

 

\----------------------------

Amaryllis waited until her sister had gone before making her way out of the room to practice on the battlements. She liked it up there; the height and the view were so reminiscent of her time with her clan. Days spent climbing trees and cliffs, the always spectacular view. She'd often taken advantage of it, had always thought she would spend her life wandering the lands of the earth. She'd never imagined finding herself with a permanent home, with stone and walls and a roof.

 

She walked along the hall which was mostly empty of dignitaries and nobles. A few people meandered in the large room, talking in hushed whispers as they took slow, lazy steps. Amaryllis watched the humans as she passed, ignoring their looks as they laid eyes on her stave. She marched forward with determination, but slowed when she saw Varric sitting at his usual spot by the fire, head resting against his right hand and a quill writing at a leisurely pace in his left.

 

Amaryllis approached him, laid her weapon on the table in a childlike desire to show it off, and sat down across from him, resting her head on her crossed arms which rested on the table. Varric glanced up, smirked, then slowed his writing until he reached the end of the sentence and dropped his quill.

 

"Well, well, what have we here, miss mage?"

 

She beamed. "I have my own weapon now. I'm going to go practice." She nodded toward his parchment. "What are you doing?"

 

Varric signed. "Writing to a friend for advice."

 

"About _Hehran_ Cassandra?"

 

Varric blinked, giving himself away. "What makes you think it's about her?"

 

"Because you lied to her and she's still mad enough that you don't go to the tavern anymore because she’s either there or just outside and you’re afraid of getting into another fight with her." She said matter of fact.

 

"You are...disturbingly perceptive."

 

"Also I overheard Miss Leliana talk to her about how she needed to not hold grudges so much."

 

"You’re not supposed to reveal your secrets!" Varric said with a chuckle.

 

"It’s not a secret," she agreed with a shrug, "But I bet I know how to make her not so mad anymore."

 

That piqued Varric's interest. "I'm listening."

 

"Well," Amaryllis said, leaning in as if she were about to share an incredible secret. " _Hahren_ Cassandra reads your books. Maybe you should write one for her."

 

Varric stared at Amaryllis in horror for a moment before he threw his head back and laughed. "I'm sorry," he said, "But I must have misheard you. You said _Cassandra_ reads my books?"

 

Amaryllis nodded.

 

Varric stared, then slumped in his seat. "Well, shit."

 

"She really likes this one book called _Swords and Shields,_ " Amaryllis said, "She doesn't know I know. She was talking to Leliana about it. And she was _grinning_."

 

"So what you're suggesting," Varric said slowly, "Is that I should write the next chapter of my worst serial and give it to Cassandra to make amends? You must be out of your mind!"

 

"Why?" She asked with a huff, "You wanted to know how to make her like you, and I told you. Don't you like her back?"

 

Looking confused, Varric leaned over the table. "Uh, kiddo, what exactly do you think I feel toward the Seeker?"

 

"You like her," Amaryllis said simply. "My Grandmamae used to say that boys always did stupid things to girls they liked so the girls would pay attention to them. My father pushed my mother into a river. They got married. Cullen didn’t do anything like that with my sister, but that’s because they’re weird. But you always make _Hahren_ Cassandra angry so I just thought you did it because you liked her." She shrugged and stood, picking up her staff. "But I'm just a kid. What do I know?" With that she left to make her way outside, leaving a flabbergasted Varric in her wake.

 

He let out an exasperated breath, glanced to his letter, then up to the ceiling. "Makers balls," he sighed, "What am I doing?"

 

He pushed the letter aside, wet his quill, and with a hesitant hand began to write the first draft of the next chapter of his worst-selling serial.

 

For Cassandra, of all people.

 

\---------------

 

Amarantha knocked on the Commander's door, which opened almost instantly. She blinked in surprise, seeing Cullen standing there, still decked out in his armor and looking down sheepishly.

 

"I, uh....was...it's good to see you."

 

"Were you _waiting_ for me, Commander?"

 

"Hardly," he said, laughing weakly before motioning her inside, "Perhaps. Is that alright?"

 

"It's perfect," Amarantha said, turning to face him. He was truly handsome, almost boyish in some ways. He seemed so shy and awkward at times, even as they had drifted into a relationship almost seamlessly. With the threat that hung over them like a noose waiting to catch and tighten, it was almost necessary to move with certainty. Amarantha didn't know if either of them would make it out of this war alive, so there was no point in holding back. She'd done that enough, and wasn't interested in keeping it up.

 

Cullen wrapped his arms around Amarantha and she settled against him, head resting under his chin as if she'd been made to fit there perfectly. Cullen nuzzled against her, breathing in her scent. She smelled fresh from her bath, her hair reminding him of a field of wildflowers on a warm spring day. It was a calming smell, soothing and pleasant, and he rested his cheek against her head, savoring the feel of her in his arms and the smell that would linger on him for the rest of the night.

 

"I'm glad you're back," he said softly, not wanting to disturb the moment too greatly. "I must admit I was worried."

 

"I'm glad to be back," she murmured before pulling away. "And I suppose I owe you thanks."

 

His eyes furrowed in confusion. "For what?"

 

Amarantha's brow raised, the look on her face one of a sisterly exasperation. "My sister is crazy about your present. She’s convinced she’s going to be an extremely powerful mage and wants to join the Inquisition. Officially."

 

"You don't disapprove, do you? Of the gift?” Cullen asked quickly, “ I suppose I should have asked, but I merely wanted-"

 

A thin finger pressed up against hip lips. "It'sfine," she smiled, "Honestly? It...means a lot to me."

 

"I'm glad," Cullen said, pressing a kiss to her finger, then taking her hand in his. "I-" he paused a moment, wet his lips somewhat nervously. “I must confess I was a bit….selfish in my actions.”

 

“How is giving a gift selfish?” She asked, not understanding. Cullen sighed, and ran his hand through his hair before turning away.

 

“I have not always had the...highest opinion of mages,” he began cautiously. “As a Templar, I had a duty, and in that duty I allowed horrible prejudices to taint my view of the people I was trying to protect. I thought- sometimes find myself still thinking- unkind things about them. I left that life behind, and I have seen the value of mages, both in skill and by the fact that they, like me, are people. It’s not always easy to step away from the thoughts that once were so ingrained within, but I am hopeful that I can atone for my past.”

 

‘By bribing my sister?” Cullen whirled around, ready to explain, but stopped short when he saw the wry grin on Amarantha’s face. “I’m teasing, Cullen.” She stepped forward. “I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of such discrimination. I’m not a mage, but I am Dalish. I had little interaction with humans as a child, but I’ve been called ‘knife-ear’ by plenty of people. Even when I joined the Inquisition.”

 

Cullen looked affronted at that, but Amarantha held up her hand to silence the man. “Josie took care of it. Anyway, You’ve realized on your own that you should treat people with kindness, and I appreciate that. You’re trying to renew your way of thinking, and you accepted my sister. You’re human. Humans - and elves for that matter - make mistakes.”

 

“Thank you for understanding,” Cullen said with a heavy sigh, “I….I find myself worried I’ll say the wrong thing or do something unkind.”

 

“If you do, apologize and learn from it,” she said, “It’s how we grow.”

 

Cullen smiled, letting his hand come up to caress her cheek. “No wonder you’re the Inquisitor,” he mused, “You’ve so much wisdom.”

 

“Actually, I’m just quoting Josie.”

 

Unable to help himself, Cullen snorted. “I should have known.” He blinked. “Wait. What was that about Amaryllis joining the Inquisition?”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your views, kudos, and comments. As always, I am so grateful! 
> 
> Next chapter: Amaryllis is given a chance; Varric is given a second one.


	15. Trial and Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amarantha gets a chance, Varric gets a second one, and Amarantha is witness to madness.

Chapter Fifteen: Trial and Error

 

It had been with great surprise that Cullen supported Amaryllis’ request to join the Inquisition. He claimed it had nothing to do with his wanting to make up for his past, and so Amarantha chose to believe him. He recounted how he’d known at the tender age of thirteen that he’d wanted to be a Templar, and that there was something to be said about the girl’s resolve to join and turn her pain into a determination to help others.

 

So it was with uncertainty that a few days later, Amarantha brought up the concept to the council. Josephine was horrified at the thought, and Cassandra claimed it was dangerous but that everyone should have the choice whether or not to fight. Leliana was delighted by the thought, and they discussed the possibilities of what it would mean for Amaryllis to join the ranks of the inner circle.

 

“I shouldn’t be biased, but I can’t help but worry,” Amarantha said, “Though I understand that we all put ourselves at risk.”

 

“My concern is that she is not properly trained,” Cassandra piped up. “She is learning, but we cannot throw her into the fray without proper preparation.”

 

“So many of our men were unprepared,” Cullen countered gently, “Despite her position as the Inquisitor’s sister, it would not be fair to show her special treatment.”

 

“It isn’t meant to be fair,” Cassandra remarked, “I may not be fond of my heritage, but I understand that people in certain positions do have privileges that others do not. I may not agree, but it is the case, and I am not certain I feel comfortable allowing a child out to witness the horrors of war.”

 

“She has witnessed her them,” Amarantha pointed out smoothly, “As have we all. I do not like it, but she wants to fight. And _my_ fear is that if I say no, she will sneak out anyway, determined to help and will get herself killed.”

 

“Would she do that?” Josephine asked, brows creased in worry.

 

Amarantha smiled, her face full of sisterly pride. “Of course. She’s related to me, after all.”

 

“Well, then a compromise,” Leliana suggested, ever the soft voice of reason, reminding Amarantha of that time months ago when she’d gently coaxed information out of her. Amarantha trusted and liked Leliana, but her ability to soothe and extract information was a frighteningly impressive feat. “She may attend less dangerous missions to allow her to warm up to it all. She may attend diplomatic events, visit the Hinterlands or other places where there is no immediate threat until she is comfortable.”

 

“That would work,” Amarantha agreed, “She can also assist Solas on his excursions to retrieve Elvhen artifacts. I know she would enjoy that.”

 

“Then it’s settled,” Cullen said, “She will join the Inquisition, officially, but will be limited in her duties.”

 

“I think she’ll be pleased,” Amarantha said, “And she’ll probably want to go out first thing.”

 

“Well, she’s in luck,” Leliana said, stepping closer to the map and pressing a gloved finger onto a location, “We have received word from some of my agents that the Exalted Plains is in need of the Inquisition’s assistance. There is also word of a Dalish camp who needs help with supplies. Perhaps that might be a good start for her?”

 

Amarantha nodded. “Yes,” she said throat tightening at the thought of another Dalish camp in need. This time she would help them. She would make sure not to fail. “We will leave immediately. There will be plenty to do once we get there, I’m sure.”

 

“Oh, absolutely,” Leliana agreed with a knowing grin. “Shall we adjourn so that you may prepare for your journey?”

 

The meeting closed, and Amarantha glanced up at Cullen, who was busy making some notes on his own parchment to send on to the skeleton crew that had accompanied Leliana’s agents to the Exalted Plains. She watched him for a moment, idly playing with a lock of her hair as he worked, and after a moment he looked up and gave her a weary grin.

 

“One of these days I’m going to get tired of seeing you go.”

 

Amarantha smiled. “One of these days, I won’t _have_ to go.”

 

“And what a wonderful day that will be,” Cullen said as they both moved around the table to meet at its end, hands clasped together in front of them.

 

“Perhaps one day I can convince you to go with me,” she teased. Wrapping his arm around her, pulling her close so he could rest his chin on her head, Cullen sighed.

 

“The day I go with you onto the field, it will hopefully be the last any of us has to go.”

 

“Every move we make is a step closer to that victory,” Amarantha said, “I have to believe that.”

 

“As do I,” he agreed, stepping back enough to press a kiss to her lips. She sighed against him, and Cullen silently cursed the fact that he had to watch her leave him once more. Before he’d had Amaryllis to keep him distracted, but now the girl was following her sister’s footsteps like the little shadow she was. Cullen frowned at that. No, Amaryllis was hardly a shadow. It was a disservice to call her as such. She was so much more, and she would excel at anything the Inquisition threw her way. Just like Amarantha.

 

“I’ll let you make preparations,” he said, letting her go with great reluctance. “But come find me before you go.”

 

“I promise.”

 

The shared another soft, lingering kiss, and then Amarantha was gone to find her sister. She checked with Solas first, and was surprised to find that neither mage were in the rotunda. Scratching her head, Amarantha walked out of the room, stopping when she saw Varric. He was writing, head bent over the parchment as his hand moved rapidly over the page. She watched for a moment as he flipped the page over, grabbed another sheet and continued to write. The stack beside him was impressively high. After a moment, Amarantha watched as he dropped his quill, shaking and squeezing his hand into a fist, no doubt cramping from all the work. He then lifted the quill with his other hand, tilted the paper just slightly, and continued writing with just as much speed and precision as he had when the quill had been clutched in his right hand.

 

Blinking in surprise, Amarantha walked over to where the dwarf was sitting, and sat down across from him. He didn’t look up but grunted in greeting. Once he reached the end of a rather long paragraph, he looked up with a cheerful grin. “Greetings, Your Inquisatorilness. What can I do for you?”

 

She nodded her head to his left hand. “Impressive.”

 

Varric glanced down at his hand, then back up at the Inquisitor. “Wh-Oh!” He said, suddenly understanding what she meant, “Yeah, I suppose. Been doing it for as long as I can remember. Can’t stop writing just because your hand is numb.”

 

“I suppose there is a reason we have two.”

 

Varric chuckled at that, “I like the way you think, Petal.”

 

“You know that’s a terrible nickname, yes?”

 

Varric looked affronted. “I’ll have you know that _all_ my nicknames are meticulously thought out and carefully chosen,” he declared, “I am _offended.”_

 

For a moment Amarantha thought he was serious and an apology was on the tip of her tongue before he laughed, hand slapping the table jovially “I’m teasing, Petal,” he said, “I’m clever, but not even I have that much time.”

 

“Clearly,” she laughed, “What’s your nickname?”

 

“I can’t give myself one! That’s not how these things work,” he protested. Amarantha rested her chin on her arms and looked up at Varric through her lashes, reminding the dwarf very much of the smaller, but just as spirited elf that had pestered him not that long ago.

 

“Well, maybe we should give you one,” and he could tell by her tone that it wasn’t so much a musing as it was a decision.

 

“Well, think on it- meticulously- and get back to me.”

 

The elf laughed, the sound bright and lovely. “I will.” She then motioned to the stack of papers. “You think you can take a break long enough to go with me to the Exalted Plains?” She asked, “We’re going to make contact there.”

 

“Sure!” Varric said excitedly, “A change of scenery might be nice. Who else you taking?”

 

She tossed the wadded paper up in the air, then caught it and tossed it again. “I was thinking Cassandra and Solas. And Amaryllis is coming too.”

 

He opened his mouth to complain about the Seeker’s presence, but stopped short. “Wait? The kid?”

 

“Yes,” Amarantha said with a shrug that hinted at there being much more to the story than she was willing to explain at that moment. Varric chose not to press and instead focused on the excitement he felt about seeing the small girl in action.

 

‘Well, shit, that’s awesome!” Varric said, “I knew that girl would be out slaying demons in no time!”

 

“We’re going to hopefully hold off on demon-slaying,” Amarantha said, reaching across the table to a smaller pile of wadded up papers and began tossing it from hand to hand. “But yes, she’s coming with us.”

 

“Well this’ll be one hell of a trip,” Varric said as he began to sort through his papers to organize them. “When do we leave?”

 

“First thing in the morning.”

 

“Then I should start packing.”

 

With a nod, Amarantha bounced the paper off Varric’s head, laughing when he grumbled. She repeated the gesture, leaping from her seat when he caught it and threw it at her in retaliation. He missed, just barely, and Amarantha picked the paper up, tossed it back on the table for him to discard, then turned and headed outside. She wandered around the courtyard, searching for the girl, finally finding her in the garden with Solas, where they were seated across from each other, each holding fire in their hands. Solas was speaking softly to her, while Amaryllis listened with wide-eyed focus. She moved her hands away from the fire, watching as it floated in front of her. She moved her hand to the left slowly and the flame shifted with her. She moved her hand to the right and the flame followed. Solas spoke again, and Amaryllis flung her hands apart, and the flame shot straight up in the air, bursting in a small explosion.

 

Amaryllis looked from the flame to Solas with a pleased expression and Solas tipped his head forward slightly. “Excellent work,” he praised as Amarantha approached them, arms crossed over her chest.

 

“Remind me not to make you angry,” she said before glancing at Solas, “How is she doing?”

 

“She is quite proficient,” Solas explained as he stood, then held out his hand to assist Amaryllis to her feet as well. The girl glowed with pride. “I am quite pleased with her progress.”

 

“Good,” Amarantha said as she turned her attention to her sibling, “Because you’re going to get to test what you’ve learned.”

 

“I am?” Amaryllis asked, hopping up and down excitedly, “What am I doing?”

 

The elder sister smiled, “Well, as an official member of the Inquisition-” She was interrupted by a sharp shriek, and suddenly her arms were full of the tiny elf, who was bouncing and shrieking in excitement.

 

“You’re saying yes?!”

 

“The council is saying yes,” Amarantha corrected, “But you are limited on where you can go for now. Only on trips with myself or Solas,” she said, glancing to the older elf who nodded once in silent agreement to her terms, “ And you have to do _exactly_ as we say. Understood?”

 

“Yes, yes!” Amaryllis shouted as she continued to bounce in childish excitement, jostling Amarantha. “What am I doing? Am I going somewhere!?”

 

Amarantha sighed indulgently and glanced as Solas whose eyes glinted with amusement. “We’re going to the Exalted Plains. In the morning.”

 

“Tomorrow!”

 

“Yes. Go pack.”

 

“Can I go tell The Iron Bull first?”

 

Amarantha rolled her eyes. “Yes. Go tell the Iron Bull.” The girl nodded and ran off, Amarantha calling after her, “Do not let him buy you a drink!” Rolling her eyes good naturedly, she turned her attention back to Solas. “Madness, everywhere, I swear.”

 

He chuckled softly at that, switching his grip on his staff from left hand to right, “She is merely excited,” he said, “Consider it a blessing that she is so eager to help. So many people are not given that choice.”

 

“In some ways, she wasn’t either.”

 

“No,” Solas said, “But she is young, and has the benefit of being your sister. If she had no desire to fight, she would not have to. As it stands, not only is she eager to be a part of this, she is quite adept at magic.”

 

“So I’ve been told,” Amarantha said, crossing her arms behind her back, “You think she’s ready?”

 

Solas considered for a moment, “She is no doubt sloppy in her technique, but she is quick to understand and learn. Much like you with the mark,” he said, glancing at her hand, “You mastered wielding the power of the mark with an ease unlike which I’ve ever seen.” He paused, his eyes wrinkling as he teased, “Are you certain you are not a mage as well?”

 

Amarantha let out a short laugh, “I’m fairly certain. I don’t know how I know what to do. It just…..feels natural in a way.”

 

“Does it still hurt you?” He asked, stepping forward and gesturing for her to let him see her hand. She lifted it and rested it palm up in his.

 

“Yes,” she said, “It’s more of a constant dull ache, but it burns when I use it. Not so much that it’s unbearable, but it’s certainly not pleasant. I’d compare it to a severe headache, just...in my hand.”

 

“I am sorry it causes you pain, da’len.”

 

Amarantha shrugged, “Don’t be,” she said, “It’s not like you put it there."

 

“Indeed,” he said softly, before letting go of her hand. “You said you were going to the Exalted Plains?”

 

“Yes,” Amarantha said dropping her hand to her side, “We have word of another Dalish camp. They need some assistance. No doubt we will find plenty of other things to do while we’re there, though.”

 

“If it is all right,” Solas said, “I’d like to join you. I....have had word of a friend in that region who may need my assistance."

 

“I will take all the company I can get,” Amarantha said with a grin, “Besides, it’ll be nice to have another pair of eyes to watch the children.”

 

“Your sister hardly needs a babysitter,” Solas replied with a slight frown.

 

“I was talking about Varric and Cassandra,” came the dry reply.

 

At that, Solas laughed, head thrown back in genuine amusement. “I see! In that case, I will be happy to assist.”

 

\------------

 

Clearing his throat, Varric lifted his fist to the wooden post to knock, alerting Cassandra to his presence. He stopped momentarily to watch her, unnoticed. Her back was to him, rustling through the small dresser that had been brought up to the room- if it could even be called as such- to house her clothing. She grumbled something, then selected a few items and turned, freezing in surprise when she saw Varric standing there, fist lifted to the wood.

 

“I was about to knock,” he said quickly, then did so, as if doing it after the fact still counted.

 

“Can I help you, Varric?” Cassandra asked as she folded the garment and stuffed it in her bag.

 

“Indeed you can,” Varric said as he stepped forward, a cautious movement that indicated his intention to enter her quarters, Cassandra rolled her eyes but said nothing, allowing the dwarf entrance. Varric took a moment to glance about the room, as threadbare and empty as a cell. What possessions the Seeker did have were neatly organized and sorted to the point of obsession. She was a structured and orderly woman, and it showed in the care she took with her few possessions. On the small desk that rested near the banister was a pile of books, some scholarly looking in nature, and a few that he intimately recognized. _So the kid wasn’t lying_ , he thought with a deep breath of relief.

 

“Was there something you wanted?” Cassandra asked, clearly uncomfortable with the way he was just observing her space. Shaking himself out of his distraction, Varric nodded and moved a few steps closer to the Seeker.

 

“As a matter of fact, there is,” he said, then cleared his throat. Why did this suddenly seem so much more difficult than it should be? Why were the words of a child ringing so alarmingly loud in his head? This was a peace offering, nothing more.

 

Right?

 

“Seeing as we’re going to be spending a lot of time together the next couple of weeks-” Here Cassandra made a disgusted noise that indicated her displeasure at the thought of them traveling together yet again, “I thought it might be best if I...cleared the air, so to speak.”

 

“What are you talking about, Varric,” Cassandra asked impatiently, “You have already apologized for the Hawke incident and I forgave you. There is no need to continue bringing it up.”

 

“Now that’s where you’re wrong, Seeker,” he said, instantly wondering if perhaps he shouldn’t have said it that way, but he pressed on. This wasn’t a parchment he could wad up and try again. “You’re still upset and rightfully so. So I thought I’d do something to….really make amends. I can say I’m sorry all I want, but the way I figure it, you’re a woman of action, not words. So here’s me. Acting.”

 

Without ceremony, he pulled the bound papers out of the bag he’d been carrying and held them out to her. She looked at the stack suspiciously, as if it might attack her, then when he thrust his hands a little further she reached out and took the papers. Glancing at the title, her cheeks flushed a bright red and Varric was further reminded of just how right Amaryllis had been.

 

“What-” she asked before lowering her hands sharply, “Why would you give me a rough draft of your….smut?”

 

“Because,” Varric said as he crossed his arms over his chest, more to protect himself than anything, “A little bird told me that you are quite a fan of the series. I thought perhaps I’d make up my…...withhold of information by providing you with the next chapter. It’s not bound yet,” he added quickly, “I didn’t have time and I wanted you to have it to read on the road. So...yeah. There you go,” he shrugged, hands out in front of him to indicate that he had nothing else to add. She could accept it or not.

 

She looked from the title back to him, back to the title once more. She opened her mouth, prepared to violently protest.“I…..” she paused, glanced at the book to Varric again, then sighed. “I am _desperate_ to know the fate of the Knight-Captain.”

 

“Well, you have her fate in your hands,” Varric said, “Literally.”

 

Slowly, almost reverently, she clutched the manuscript to her chest. She bit her lip, looked away for a moment, then back to Varric. “T-thank you.”

 

“So, we good?”

 

A pause.

 

“We… are good.”  

 

“Good.”

 

Silence between them formed, making the whole scenario feel more meaningful than Varric had intended. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he gestured to the door. “Well, I should-”

 

“Yes, of course. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah. Well, later, Seeker.” He turned to leave, stopping only when Cassandra called out his name. He turned back. “Yeah?”

 

“Don’t-” she stopped, then started again, helplessly, “If you-”

 

“Your secret is safe with me,” he said, nodding toward the book. “Amaryllis on the other hand? I can promise nothing.”

 

He took off at that, enjoying the sound of Cassandra’s flustered cursing.

 

\------------------

 

The trip to the Exalted Plains was a lively one. Between the constant - and surprisingly friendly - bickering of Varric and Cassandra, to Amaryllis’ childlike amazement at getting to travel with the Inquisition, it was a loud but pleasant journey. At night they would sit around the fire trading stories, and Amaryllis quickly became enthralled in one of Varric’s ongoing tales of an adventure gone awry with Hawke.

 

Cassandra sat next to the little mage and smiled as she listened closely, playing with the girl’s short hair. It was a practical cut, fitting for a young girl. Feminine but not in the way during a fight. She glanced over to the elder sister, whose hair reached her waist, stick straight and thick, small tendrils curling at the sides from the humidity. She hated to admit it, but Cassandra slightly envied the elf’s long tresses.

She liked her own hair, liked the simplicity and practicality of it, and so she merely kept it short. But a small part of her wondered what she might look like with long hair to style and braid. To have someone run their fingers through.

 

Amaryllis settled against her, sighing at the comforting touch in her own golden hair. Once more Cassandra studied the child in her lap, so young and sweet, but fierce and preparing for battle. She wondered how the girl would fare in her first real fight. She studied the child’s face in the light of the fire, from her long, slim nose that tilted up ever so lightly at the end, to her long, dark lashes and icy-grey eyes. She was the spitting image of her sister, a well known and obvious fact by now, but still fascinating nonetheless.

 

“What did your mother look like?” Cassandra heard herself ask suddenly, blinking in surprise as she did so. She recalled the years since her brother’s death and how long it had taken her to open up about him even a little to the Inquisitor, and cursed herself for daring to bring up such a tender subject.

 

Varric looked up from where he was fiddling with Bianca. “Yeah, I’ve wondered that as well. You two look alike. Like, almost in a creepy way.”

 

“It is _not_ creepy, Varric,” Cassandra chided, but the two elf girls laughed.

 

“We get that a lot,” Amarantha said, “And our mother looked….well….like us.”

 

“Same color hair, eyes, and all?” Varric questioned.

 

“Not the eyes,” Amarantha said, “Her eyes were green, like our grandmother’s.”

 

“Do you all have the same color hair too?” Varric asked with a smirk.

 

Amarantha narrowed her eyes playfully. “No. Mother’s hair was purple.”

 

Varric and Cassandra glanced at the Inquisitor for a moment, eyes wide, until the elf shook her head, eyes twinkling in the firelight. “I’m teasing. Mother’s hair was the same as ours.”

 

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Clearly sarcasm is also a family trait.”

 

“Father used to joke that the gods liked Grandmamae so much that they fixed it so all of her descendents would be exactly like her,” Amaryllis said, “He said that they had good taste.”

 

“I would be inclined to agree,” Said Solas, “The world could use more elves like the two of you.” Amaryllis positively beamed at that, and Amarantha sent a silent look of thanks to the older elf.

 

That sort of cheerful banter continued on during the days, the group smiling and laughing as they teased each other, each of them grateful for the distraction as they made the long journey. Eventually they made it to the Exalted Plains and were greeted by Scout Harding, a pleasant dwarf whom Amarantha didn’t get the opportunity to speak with much, but she liked the dwarf immensely.

 

“Good afternoon, Inquisitor,” Harding said in her usual cheerful tone, “We’ve got quite a bit to go over.”

 

“Of course we do,” Amarantha nodded. She turned to the group, “If you want to get settled, I’ll brief you in a bit.”

 

They went their separate ways, and an hour later Amarantha returned, looking considerably more worn down.

 

“I hope you’re all ready to work,” she said as she collapsed in front of them. She moved her legs so that they were crossed in front of her, and rested her elbows on her knees. “I need to visit the Dalish camp. They are weary of outsiders, but are in great need of some assistance, so showing up with a group, even one with three elves, might not go well. Solas, if your friend can wait, I need you to help Cassandra and Varric in the ramparts. There is magic there that needs to be broken. Fast.”

 

“Of course, Inquisitor,” he said, pressing his hand to his chest.

 

“I could help,” Amaryllis spoke up, “I’m a mage.”

 

Amarantha bit her lip, hesitating. “There have been sightings of undead. This will not be simple mission and you will have to be to fight. I’m not certain-”

 

“I can do it,” she insisted.

 

Glancing to Cassandra and Varric, they both remarked their willingness to have the girl tag along. “They won’t be able to watch you. You’ll _have_ to fend for yourself.”

 

“I can do it,” Amaryllis insisted again.

 

With a sigh, Amarantha glanced to Solas. “I will supervise her,” he offered, “This will be a good learning opportunity for her.”

 

Throwing her hands up in defeat, Amarantha said, “All right. Harding will brief you on further details,” she said as she stood, “I’m going to make my way to the Dalish.” She looked at her sister with a long, intent stare. “Be careful.”

 

Amaryllis puffed out her chest. “I can do it,” she declared, “I promise.”

 

Amarantha desperately hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. But it was decided, and with that, the group split, and Amarantha moved west toward the encampment where the elves were currently staying. Grinning widely, Amaryllis glanced to the others in her company, waiting eagerly to be told what to do next. They journeyed to the east where the closest ramparts were once they’d been briefed by Harding, and when they arrived, Amaryllis felt a lump grow in her throat at all the dead that surrounded them. It looked like a war zone, for it was, and she suddenly felt herself begin to doubt her ability. But the others looked only mildly concerned as they walked on, so she kept her fears to herself and rushed to keep up with them.

 

They reached the wooden bridge that led from the road to the rampart where they were instantly greeted by an undead warrior, his skeletal form ragged and reeking of death. Cassandra charged straight for it while the others held back, firing arrows and magic to assist the warrior. The skeleton collapsed into a pile of broken bones easily, and Cassandra paused a moment to wipe sweat off her forehead. It had not been a heavy excursion but the sun was hot, blaring down on them angrily. She motioned for the group to follow her and they did so, Varric leading them and Solas trailing behind. They faced more creatures on the way, and Amaryllis found herself falling into an easy pattern, sending out bursts of flames at the foes while Solas focused his energy on keeping Cassandra safe from injury.

 

They moved on, Cassandra leading the charge until they reached the pit in the center of the rampart. The foul stench of death increased, and Amaryllis felt bile rise up in her throat as the smell knocked her senses for a loop. She felt a hand on her shoulder, glancing up to see Solas standing beside her protectively, and she reminded herself that she was capable of this, that she was strong and brave, and she would not let down those who had put faith in her. She was a novice, not a coward, and she would learn and she would succeed. Pushing she shoulders back, she gripped her staff, thinking back to how kind Cullen had been to her, and she smiled softly, determined to make the Commander proud as well.

 

They continued closer to the pit, stopping when they saw someone standing before it, clearly standing guard. He wore all white, his dress elegant and not suited for the environment at all, Amaryllis thought as she studied the man. He held a gold staff, and a large tome in his hand. A mask covered the top half of his face while a large fluffy hat covered the rest of his head. He spoke to them in a loud gruff voice, and Cassandra called back, demanding that he move.

 

He threw the book out in front of him, where it opened and hovered in the air, a red glow surrounding it as he chanted something strange and foreign, and a magic burst forth causing the group to jump out of the way to avoid being struck. Cassandra rolled forward, Varric and Solas ducked to one side. Amaryllis had rushed the opposite way, and when she looked up she found herself facing the man in white, who towered over her with a menacing grin.

 

He spoke again, then lifted his staff to attack. Amaryllis felt her body tense, and while she instinctively knew to move, her body felt rooted to the ground, as if the dirt had seized her and made her a stone in its grip. Images of the time before flashed in her mind and she felt the pain of not being able to help her parents afresh. That same fear, that same panic consumed her now, but whereas before the fire within her had been uncontainable, now she couldn’t force it out, even with all her strength. She flinched, eyes widening in fear as her body tightened, prepared for the blow. Instead, the man was shoved back by a powerful force, and Amaryllis whirled around to see Solas lowering his hand, glaring at the man hatefully, then down to her in concern and confusion.

 

Shaking her head, Amaryllis cursed her fear, spun back to face the man, and lifted her staff to send forth a bright burst of fire, which caught the man’s raised arm and caused him to scream in pain. She growled, stepped closer, and screamed at the man, “Dread Wolf take you, shem!” She threw another blast of flame, then hoisted her staff and swung it, smacking the man on the side of the head, causing him to stumble, where he was caught by Cassandra, whose sword pressed into his gut. The man grunted, his white clothes smearing with red as he collapsed to the ground at the Seeker’s feet. She grunted and kicked dirt at him, then glanced up to the elf girl, who stood still, staff hanging limply at her side as tears slipped down her cheeks.

 

Stepping over the dead man, Cassandra moved to the girl, kneeling down in front of her, hands gripping her shoulders. “Are you alright?”

 

Wiping her eyes hastily, Amaryllis nodded.

 

Cassandra offered her a gentle smile, and patted her shoulder, before speaking sternly but with understanding,“You cannot freeze up like that. It can cost you your life.”

 

Amaryllis sniffed. “I won’t do it again.”

 

“Good girl. Are you able to continue?”

 

Amaryllis blew air out of her mouth, then nodded. “I can do it.”

 

Cassandra rose, nodded to Solas and Varric that the girl was alright, and they made their way to the pit, where a barrier flickered before them, surrounding the pit of bodies. Curiously, Amaryllis reached out to touch it, jerking back with a soft cry when a sharp sting bit at her flesh. She rubbed her hand, and glanced up at Solas, who was fighting back an amused smirk.

 

“How do we break the barrier?”

 

“Like this,” Solas said, taking his staff and pointing it toward the barrier. Amaryllis followed suit, and together they began to throw their magic at it as the barrier shook and trembled under the pressure of fire and electricity. Eventually it collapsed with a burst of purple light, and Amaryllis grinned, feeling better now that she’d done something useful. Varric stepped up beside her and wrinkled his nose at the sight and smell.

 

“Let’s get this done and go,” he said, “Or else I’ll have this scent in my clothes for weeks.”

 

They all agreed, and Solas gestured for Amaryllis to do the honors. She created a small flame in her hand, then dropped it into the pit, which erupted into flames in an instant. The smell increased as well, and the group all covered their noses as they ran past the pit toward the horn that was stationed at the top of the rampart which would signal their success.

 

Later that night, the group reconvened with the Inquisitor, who looked weary but in good spirits. She grimaced when she approached them however, hand coming up to cover her nose. “What happened?”

 

“Don’t ask,” Cassandra grunted as she threw her sword to the ground, “And don’t complain. You aren’t covered in the stench.”

 

“Well thank the gods for that,” she said with a laugh, “I take it things went well?” Her eyes remained focused on the Seeker, but it was apparent what she was truly asking. Cassandra sank to the ground.

“It went as smoothly as one might expect it to,” she said, “We had a small hiccup at first, but things pulled together nicely and the mission was a success.”

 

“What hiccup?” Amarantha asked, noticing that Amaryllis glanced away, dirty cheeks red.

 

“The first time in battle is always difficult,” Cassandra explained, “But your sister is a fast learner. And is quite impressive with her fire.”

 

“Yeah and when that fails she just whacks the asshole in the head with her stick,” Varric chimed in, “Had we not been in the middle of a fight, I’d have stopped and cheered.”

 

Amaryllis said nothing, and even though she was looking away, there was a large grin on her face. She was clearly proud of what she’d done, despite her apparent difficulty. Amarantha made a mental note to  get the details from Cassandra or Solas later, but for now she would let it be and let the girl enjoy her victory.

 

“Well I’m pleased to hear it,” Amarantha said, “The Dalish are well, too. I’ve sent in orders to supplies and talked with them a while. They are slow to trust, but once I told them about my clan, about what the Inquisition is doing, they were much more open. We may even have a new recruit, if I can convince the Keeper to agree.”

 

“Another Dalish!” Amaryllis perked up. Her sister nodded.

 

“Yes. Hopefully. It will be good to have another representative to help other clans in the event I cannot be there,” she said. Varric chuckled.

 

“Hell if you can’t go, just send Sprout over here. She can take care of things no problem.”

 

Amaryllis beamed. “He’s been calling me that all day!”

 

“Well, you earned it, kiddo,” Varric said, “And only the best get a nickname from yours truly.”

 

“How long did it take you to meticiously come up with that one?” Amarantha asked dryly.

 

“Ten minutes,” Varric said, “Don’t complain because you don’t like yours. I can’t change it now, at any rate.”

 

“Of course you can,” Cassandra remarked from her place on the ground. Varric shook his head.

 

“Once a nickname has been decalred, it can’t be changed. I don’t make the rules on these things, I just enforce them.”

 

“You absolutely _do_ make the rules,” Cassandra remarked with a roll of her eyes.

 

“At any rate, it’s better than _Chuckles_ ,” Solas added dryly. Cassandra scoffed. “At least _yours_ is original. I don’t even get a unique name. I’m just _Seeker_ ,” she crossed her arms and huffed, “He couldn’t even be bothered to _try_ and be clever for me.”

 

“If I did, you’d just complain anyway,” Varric argued, then an idea struck and he smirked wickedly, “Tell you what, _Cassandra_ ,” he said, using her real name for what was conceivably the first time, “I’ll think of a new one for you, if that’ll make you happy.”

 

“You _could_ just call me by my name.”

 

“I _could_ ,” Varric agreed, “But that’s not how I do things.”

 

Amused, Amarantha rolled her eyes to Solas who was shaking his head at their banter. “You see why I needed you here?” She said, talking over the two bickering companions, “I’m not sure whether they’re flirting or fighting.”

 

Suddenly two sets of eyes were on her, glaring hotly as they cried, “We are not flirting!”

 

Amarantha kept her gaze focused on Solas, who returned her amused gaze. “Your actions beg to differ,” Solas said gently, “I may not be well versed in romance, but even _I_ can tell when two people are attracted to one another.”

 

Amaryllis laughed at the outraged protests of the other two, and for the first time since her sister left for the Conclave all those months ago, she felt truly at ease. She laid down on the ground as the four adults bickered and teased like children, her presence all but forgotten, and it was a lovely feeling that wrapped around her. She felt safe and happy, and eventually fell asleep to the other’s laughs.

 

When she awoke the next day, the others were up and ready to head out. She felt bad for sleeping in, but Amarantha had merely winked at her when she was questioned, telling her sister, “You earned it.”

 

She bathed in the river, her sister keeping guard, and when she felt the smell of the dead was finally no longer clinging to her did she dry and dress, and soon after the group was on their way. Solas was eager to find his friend and Amarantha had decided to join him, using the opportunity to explore and gather more herbs and meat for the camp as they traveled. Varric and Cassandra joined as well, and they had a merry time as they walked, in no real rush as they followed Solas, who carried his staff in one hand and a map in the other.

  


  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry about not updating last week. I will be posting another chapter today to make up for that. 
> 
> I am in love with the idea that Varric is ambidextrous. Maybe because I am as well, but still. It's a freaking neat skill to have. 
> 
> Next chapter: Solas tries to help; Amarantha experiences something new; a small girl's night in reveals some interesting developments around Skyhold.


	16. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas tries to help; Amarantha experiences something new; a small girl's night in reveals some interesting developments around Skyhold.

Chapter Sixteen: Talk

 

The search for Solas’ friend took less time than expected. Solas seemed to know exactly where to go,  and so the group followed his quick steps, their merry banter soon melting into quiet curiosity as to what was going on with the apostate. They walked over a short hill, stopping short when Solas ceased moving and looked down to the small valley before them. There, surrounded by four stone pillars that radiated a kind of magic that made Amarantha’s hair stand on end and her mark spark to life, was a demon.

 

“There,” Solas said, pointing to the creature that was bound.

 

“ _That_ is your friend?” Amarantha said surprised.

 

“Were you expecting something else?” He snapped. Amarantha held her hands up in defense.

 

“You didn’t say anything,” she replied, “Forgive me for being surprised.”

 

He seemed to accept that, and apologetic, he turned back to face his friend. “We must help,” he said softer, “She was a spirit of wisdom. She was not meant for this.”

 

“What can we do then?”

 

Solas did not answer; instead his eyes narrowed as a man approached them, a mage, looking friendly and a little proud. “Greetings,” the man said, “I’m pleased to see you are not bandits. I wonder if you could help us? We are in need of lyrium. Most of us are exhausted from fighting that demon-”

 

“A demon _you_ created by corrupting it,” Solas hissed. Amarantha glanced back to the others, wary and uncertain. She had never seen Solas behave this way, and from the looks on Cassandra and Varric’s faces, neither had they.

 

“I understand not everyone has studied demons as we have,” the man said a little sharply, “But after you help us perhaps I can-”

 

“We are not here to help _you_ ,” Solas snapped. The man recoiled a little, then glanced to Amarantha, clearly looking for someone to assist him.

 

“We are here because my advisor,” she said, gesturing to Solas, “Received word that his friend was in danger. Solas most likely has more knowledge of spirits and demons than your entire group, so perhaps you might want to step aside and let him deal with things.” It was said politely, diplomatically as Josephine had taught her, but there was no room for argument. Her suggestion was not one at all, and everyone knew it. Stepping aside, the man gestured toward the creature.

 

“Be my guest.”

 

The group stepped forward, and Amaryllis jogged forward to stand with her sister and teacher. “It’s in pain,” she whispered. Solas grunted next to them.

 

“Of course it is,” he said, calming now that he was speaking to the sisters. “And it will likely lash out once we try to break the binding.”

 

“So we have to fight it off without killing it,” Amarantha sighed, “Sounds easy.”

 

“Inquisitor,” Solas began, but Amarantha laid a hand on his arm.

 

“Do what you need to do, Solas,” she said, “We will protect you, and keep the dem- the spirit at bay.”

 

“Very well,” he nodded, then glanced down to Amaryllis. “It might be beneficial to have another mage.”

 

‘I don’t know what to do,” she said nervously.

 

“Merely focus your energy, like we have practiced. I will draw from you, and will use your energy to boost my own.”

 

“I can do that,” she said, and with a quick look to her sister for approval, which she gave, the two moved closer to one of the pillars. Solas readied himself, and Amarantha mimicked his stance. Closing her eyes, she focused and her hands began to glow a bright red. Solas hummed in approval, then swung his stave forward and began to undo the binding.

 

The demon roared, swinging its arms wildly, but did not move to attack. Amarantha readied her daggers, and Cassandra stepped forward, sword pointed toward the creature. “Are you certain he knows what he’s doing?”

 

“I trust Solas,” she said simply, “And….after meeting Cole, I...I dislike the thought of something like this happening to him. I’d rather we give this creature a chance. I swore to myself I would not judge others here, and if I am willing to do that for Cole, I must do it for this spirit too. It’s….Solas wouldn’t lead us astray.”

 

“I do not think so, either,” Cassandra agreed. “But we must be ready.”

 

Their interference wasn’t necessary, however. In the end the demon merely shrank to the ground, the binding magic finally broken by Solas and Amaryllis. Amaryllis slumped to the ground, exhausted, and Solas rushed forward to the creature as it morphed into the shape of a young girl.

 

Kneeling down in front of her, Solas extended a hand to the spirit. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in elven. The spirit sat, slumped and breathing raggedly.

 

“No,” it whispered, sounding like a thousand voices at once, “Do not be. I am me again. I am happy.” She took what looked like a shuddering breath. “Please, help me once more. Guide me into death.”

 

Solas’ balance wavered, but he caught himself, and nodded with a resigned sigh. “As you wish.”

 

Moving his hand, he let loose a small stream of magic, and with a last breath, one that sounded relieved, the spirit melted into the wind, and was no more.

 

The others looked on, and with a voice that cracked as she spoke, Amarantha said, “I’m sorry, _hahren_.”

 

 _“_ My friend had a moment of peace before the end. That is better than the alternative.” His eyes were soft, sorrowful, but then in an instant they changed, hard and full of hate as he rounded on the mages that had summoned the spirit. “Though she suffered needlessly because of _you_ ,” he hissed, “You tortured and killed my friend.”

 

The male mage that had greeted them before balked. “We didn’t know it was just a spirit!” He claimed, “We thought it could help us. The book said so!”

Solas didn’t hear them, stalking toward them like a wolf ready to devour its prey. A panicked look passed through the others, and Amarantha rushed forward, placing her hand on Solas’ arm. “Solas,” she said calmly. When he didn’t listen, she stepped in front of him, pleading, “ _Hahren.”_

 

Solas blinked, the haze over his eyes lifting as he looked at the younger elf in front of him. His eyes searched hers for a long moment, then he sighed and turned away. “I need some time,” he said, “I will meet you at Skyhold.”

 

With that, he slipped away from her, and fled.

 

Turning to the mages, Amarantha glared sternly. “Let this be a lesson to you,” she said, “No more summoning spirits. Next time it happens, your fate will be your own, and it will be deserved.”

 

With that, she turned, moved to pick up her sister who was still slumped on the ground, eyes following Solas tearfully. “Where is he going?” She asked weakly. Amarantha hoisted her sister onto her back.

 

“I don’t know. But he needs time. And you need rest. Let’s get back to camp.”

 

They stayed a few more days in the Exalted Plains to tie up some loose ends before returning to Skyhold. Amarantha bid farewell to the Dalish, even introduced them to her company, who were greeted with kindness. They shared a light supper with the clan the last night, and slept under the stars, the sisters explaining to Cassandra and Varric some old elven lore that had been passed onto them from their grandmother and mother.

 

They left the next day, and a few days later returned to Skyhold, which Amarantha was grateful to see once more. She followed the group to the stables, where Master Dennet greeted Amaryllis and asked after her trip. She spoke excitedly to the man, arms flailing wildly as she recounted some of her favorite parts of the journey. With a smile, Amarantha glanced to Cassandra. “Remind me to have you explain what you meant back when you said there was a ‘hiccup’.”

 

Cassandra shook her head. “There is nothing to explain. She froze up for a moment. It happens, but she knows it cannot happen again. She must use her pain, not be controlled by it.”

 

“If you say it’s not an issue, I’ll trust you.”

 

The Seeker turned, and Amarantha followed, as did Varric. “The dwarf can attest to it. For her first real battle, I could have expected no more. But she will have no choice but to improve.”

 

“Yeah, Sprout’s not bad,” Varric said, “Got a mean swing with that stick, too. You teach her that, Seeker?”

 

The taller woman chuckled. “I didn’t, but perhaps I should. We can use you as her practice dummy.”

 

Varric winced. “Ouch. I think that was an insult to my height as well as my intelligence,” he said, “I’m gonna go drown my sorrows with a pint or four.”

 

“You do that, Varric,” Cassandra said, “Stumbling targets make for better practice anyway.”

 

Amarantha glanced between the two of them, an amused look on her face. “I’m staying out of this one.”

 

She waved to Varric as he went on to the tavern, then turned to speak to Cassandra seriously once more. What she was going to say caught in her throat however, and her attention focused over the woman’s shoulder to see Solas enter the gates of Skyhold, looking weary but less angry than when he’d left.

 

“I’ll meet you inside,” Amarantha said and Cassandra glanced back, nodding in understanding as she went on. Solas saw Amarantha watching him and approached her, looking almost sheepish.

 

“Inquisitor,” he said in greeting, “I apologize for my behavior in the Exalted Plains.”

 

“Solas,” she breathed, reaching out to hug him. She felt him tense under her, but after a moment he returned the embrace. “It’s all right. You needed time. Are you better?”

 

“I….will endure,” he said softly, “And I wish to rest. May we speak later?”

 

“Of course.”

 

He bowed his head. “Thank you, Amarantha.”

 

He walked past her, up the stairs. Behind her Amaryllis appeared, clutching her sister’s arm as she watched the weary steps of her teacher as well. “Is he all right?”

 

“He will be,” the Inquisitor said, “Why don’t you go rest? You must be exhausted.”

 

“I’m fi-” her protest was interrupted by a yawn, and the girl blushed. “I’m tired.”

 

“Then go. Sleep. You earned a nice, long nap.”

 

\-----------------

 

When the council meeting ended, Cullen waited until Josephine and Amarantha finished catching up before coming forward. He caught the last moment of a whispered conversation, with Amarantha promising to meet Josie later that evening, and smiled.

 

“You wanted to see me, Commander?” She said playfully. He nodded.

 

“I did. We have some reports we must go over,” he said, “But I thought we might do it somewhere else? You look like you could collapse. Are you alright?”

 

She waved away his concern. “Tired, mostly. I’d love to just sleep.”

 

“Well, this can wait-”

 

“No. It needs to be done and I will see to it. After you, Commander.”

 

They went to his office where they discussed some other information that Cullen had wanted to go over. He stood at his desk while she sat atop it, legs crossed as they bent over the varying documents that needed her attention. At length they finished and Amarantha slid off the desk, a yawn slipping past her lips. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide it, but Cullen noticed and with an understanding look, asked if she wanted to return to her quarters to rest.

 

“I do,” she said, “But I’d rather not make the trip.” She groaned. “Why must your office be so far away?”

 

Cullen chuckled at her childlike groaning, reminding him a moment of her sister. “Well, if it’s too far for you, you may sleep here, if you wish.”

 

Amarantha perked up at that. “Really? I won’t bother you?”

 

“Not unless you snore.”

 

Laughing, she stepped forward and leaned up against him, enjoying the feeling of having him close. She was so used to being out, missing him, that it was almost strange at times to be with him. “If you don’t mind….”

 

“Go rest,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I’ll wake you in time for supper.”

 

“You’re too good to me,” she replied, slipping out of his arms and up the ladder to where his bed sat, looking more inviting than a bed ever had. She kicked off her boots, curled up sideways on the bed, and shut her eyes. She was asleep in moments.

 

_Amarantha walked along the snowy banks of the grounds of Haven, the cool breeze nipping at her skin pleasantly. It was quiet, the usual bustle of the day oddly missing, but the peace it offered was needed and appreciated. The elf walked along the familiar path past Cullen’s training station, a smile slipping past her lips as she thought of the Commander. She adored the man, was certain that adoration was slowly remolding itself into love, and her heart fluttered as she thought of perhaps one day letting him know just how deep her affection ran._

 

_Sitting on the steps that led into the city proper was Amaryllis, chin in hands as she sat, staring at the snow piling up on the ground. Amarantha approached her sister, startling the girl out of her reverie._

 

_“Hey.”_

 

_“Hi,” the girl replied, looking up and around. “It’s pretty here.”_

 

_“I’ve grown fond of Haven,” Amarantha said, standing and pulling her sister up. “Come, let me show you around.”_

 

_The girls walked leisurely around the city, Amarantha showing her sister the tavern, the armory, the stables, and Merchants Row. The girl beamed. “It’s just like your letters,” she said, “I wish I could have come here sooner.”_

 

_“So do I.”_

 

_“It’s better late than never, as the saying goes.”_

 

_The girls turned to see Solas standing there, staff in hand, looking at them with mirth in his eyes. “It is good to see you both,” he said, eyes squinting in delight. “Come.”_

 

_He led them to the room that had been Amarantha’s when she’d failed to seal the Breach. She’d woken up here, confused and uncertain, and seeing the room again, especially now that she’d moved into the Chantry itself made her cringe, reminding her of her failure._

 

_“I watched over your sister here,” Solas said to his apprentice, “I tried everything to figure out what was wrong. Tried to understand the mark. Cassandra threatened me on more than one occasion to provide an answer.”_

 

_“That’s Cassandra for you,” Amarantha quipped and they shared a laugh._

 

 _“Indeed,” Solas said. “It was a mystery._ You _,” he said, turning to look at the elder sister, “Are a mystery. Both of you are.”_

 

_“So are you,” Amaryllis remarked. Solas laughed._

 

_“Yes, I suppose I am,” he agreed, “We all have our secrets, I suppose.”_

 

_He motioned for them to follow him, and they walked back outside where the sun beamed down, making the chill in the air not so harsh. Amarantha closed her eyes, remembering how much she had enjoyed the sun on her face, how she’d enjoyed Haven. How it had meant a great deal to her. How she missed it-_

 

_Missed it._

 

_Her eyes flickered open, and she stared at Solas in shock. “This isn’t real.”_

 

_“You didn’t know that?” Her sister said, “We’re in the Fade, silly!”_

 

_“‘Real’ is a matter of debate,” Solas said with a cryptic smirk, “But your sister is correct. This is the Fade.”_

 

_Amarantha looked around, taking in the site once more as she recalled her time at Haven. She’d always wanted her sister to see this place, and now, in a way she had. It unnerved her that she’d entered the Fade unknowingly, though, and wanted answers on that front. She asked Solas about it, and he told her that he’d anticipated her, and had guided her here to where Amaryllis had been waiting. It was not a comforting thought, not entirely, but the Fade didn’t seem truly terrible. Amaryllis seemed content here, as did Solas._

 

_“Grandmamae would love it here,” Amaryllis said as she continued to skip around, looking and acting more childlike than she had in some time. “And Mamae. I bet Mamae would have liked Hahren Solas.”_

 

_“I’m sure I would have liked them as well,” Solas said kindly, “But we will attempt that at a future date. For now, why don’t you tell me more of your mother. What was her name?”_

 

_“Aster,” Amarantha said softly. “Her name was Aster.”_

 

_Solas blinked. “Like the flower?”_

 

_“Yes,” Amarantha said with a laugh that quickly overpowered her sadness. Amaryllis quickly added, “We’re all named after flowers. Even Grandmame! Her name was Albiza! She always said that Asters were her favorite flower and that Mamae was the most beautiful flower she’d ever seen, so she named her after them. Mamae kept the tradition. I will too, someday!”_

 

_Amarantha gave her sister a stern look. “Someday better be a long time from now, young lady.”_

 

_Amaryllis rolled her eyes. “Yes, sister.” Then smirked wickedly. “You and Cullen can do it first, though.”_

 

 _“On that note,” Solas said, tossing a glance to a flushed Amarantha. “I’ve kept you both here long enough.” He offered them a quick, reassuring look, “You can tell me more about your mother and grandmother after you_ wake up.”

 

Amarantha shot up from her sleep feeling confused and disoriented. She rubbed her head, which was slightly aching, then glanced up to see Cullen standing there, concern etched on his features.

 

“Are you alright?” He asked. She groaned and nodded.

 

“Strange dreams,” she said, sliding to the edge of the bed.

 

“Are you at least feeling a little better?” He asked, sitting down beside her, letting his hand rest on her back. She nodded and leaned against him.

 

“Some,” she said, “I...did I snore?”

 

Cullen chuckled. “No. You murmured in your sleep. Elven, I imagine. But no snoring.”

 

“Well, that’s a relief,” she sighed as she resisted the urge to just push Cullen on the bed, curl around him, and go back to sleep. Preferably with no trips to the Fade this time. They sat together for some time, resting against each other. After a few minutes, Cullen removed his arm and instead slipped off his glove, taking Amarantha's hand in his, entwining their fingers together. He turned their hands to observe how they fit together, and the elf giggled in tired delight.

 

“Something funny?” He asked, resting his other hand on top of their laced fingers.

 

“No,” she said, “Just….really happy I have you.”

 

He hummed softly at that and pressed his lips to her temple. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact that you could possibly want me,” he murmured.

 

She sighed against him, lifting her face so that her nose brushed his chin. “And yet I’m here,” she said.

 

“So you are,” Cullen agreed, tilting his head to press his lips to hers. “Thank the Maker.”

 

\-------------------

 

It was with red cheeks and bruised lips that Amarantha entered Josephine’s office. The ambassador had requested - or rather, demanded - they spend some time together. Since Haven, things had been hectic to say the very least, and Josephine and Amarantha had not had time to merely chat since the arrival at Skyhold some months before. The Antivan was determined to change that.

 

When she saw Amarantha, still dusty from her journey, she smiled knowingly. “Looks like you’ve been…..busy,” she teased in her lovely thick accent. Amarantha flushed harder.

 

“I….fell asleep,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear, which was also red.

 

“Oh, don’t be coy,” Josephine said, pulling out two glasses and a bottle of fine wine. “I am used to scandal,” she winked. “And this is _good_ scandal. It’s sweet. You’re happy. Glowing, practically. And I’ve never seen the Commander so lovesick. It’s positively delightful!”

 

“I suppose it is,” Amarantha said with a bashful laugh. “I am rather fond of him.”

 

“You had better be!” Josephine laughed, “There are many eyes on him, I’ll have you know. You are the envy of Thedas, in some ways.”

 

“I suppose that makes me...happy?” Amarantha said, accepting the wine, “I just know I care about him.”

 

“Which is all well and good,” Josephine said, “But we will gush about your affair later. I have something far more shocking to tell you.”

 

Amarantha leaned forward. “You, a gossip, Josephine? I’d have never guessed!”

 

The girls laughed. “I’m normally not. My position affords many secrets that I cannot tell - at least not until necessary. But,” she stressed, “This is something I thought you would _love_ to hear.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“Dorian. And. The Iron Bull.”

 

The elf blanched. “No!”

 

“Yes!” Josephine said. “Leliana told me. Last night apparently. It was….unexpected on all accounts. Do not say a word, but oh my! What do you think?”

 

“I think… I don’t know what to think! You’re sure something actually happened?”

 

“ _Absolutely_ ,” Josie said with a certainty that couldn’t be denied. “Though I suppose I’m also telling you to get your professional opinion. Is this something you want known in the Inquisition? Dorian isn’t the most well-liked man, and Bull is a known Qunari spy. It could cause scandal, and _not_ the good kind.”

 

“I think it’s no one’s concern but their own,” Amarantha said simply, “If it appears that it affects their work, I’ll say something. Otherwise I just need a moment to process. I teased them not that long ago about this and I was right! I was only joking! I didn’t think they hated each other, but I didn’t think they liked each other that well.”

“Leliana indicated that they’ve been flirting for some time,” Josie replied.  

 

“Of course I did,” the spymaster said, entering the room, holding her own glass and shaking it expectantly, “Because I know everything.”

 

“Clearly,” Amarantha said as she moved over to make room on the floor for the woman to join them. Josephine poured her friend a drink and they clinked their glasses together.

 

“But that’s not all,” Leliana said as she smacked her lips together. “Mmm. Excellent choice, Josie.” She took another sip then continued. “I have also heard that Varric gave Cassandra a gift before you left for the Exalted Plains.”

 

“A gift!” Josie exclaimed, “You didn’t tell me about this! What kind of gift?”

 

“He wrote her a book,” the woman said matter of fact.

 

Amarantha blinked. “That’s quite the present.”

 

Leliana hummed, “And it was not just any book, but the latest in a certain serial that is known for its…..risque scenes.”

 

“He wrote the next installment of _Swords and Shields! For_ Cassandra!” Josie squeaked, bouncing in her seat excitedly. “Oh my!”

 

Amarantha felt bad not knowing what the series in question was about. Though the act itself was more than enough to confirm her own suspicions. “What’s it about?”

 

“It’s a romance serial,” Lelaina explained, “And certainly not Varric’s best work. But Cassandra _loves_ it. She’d deny it if you asked her of course, but in truth? She adores it. Every last, deliciously smutty word.”

 

“And Varric wrote the next installment? And gave it to her?” The elf gasped. “First, this is the best news I’ve heard all day. Second….do either of you have a copy?”

 

They all laughed, and Josephine got up from her seat on the floor and retrieved a pristine cover from the shelf behind her desk. “Here you are,” she said with a proud look, “Enjoy!”

 

Some time later, after much more gossip had been exchanged, the three dispersed for the evening. As Amarantha exited the office, she bumped into Varric, who was making his way through the hall. He noticed the book in her hands, followed by the knowing look in the elf’s eyes and groaned. “Shit.”

 

“What?” She asked, using the book to hide her smile.

 

“You know, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. He knew she knew about the gift.

 

Amarantha laughed. “A little bird told me,” she said, then winked, “But hey. I think it’s sweet. I’d love it if Cullen wrote an entire book for me.”

 

“It wasn’t _for_ her,” Varric argued, “It was….well, shit. I wrote it as a friendly gesture of goodwill to apologize. That’s it.”

 

“Sure, Varric.”

 

“Careful, or my next book’ll be about you,” he threatened good-naturedly. “And you _don’t_ want that.”

 

“I consider myself warned,” she said as she backed away from the dwarf to head to her room. Varric rolled his eyes.

 

“Sure you do, Petal. Enjoy!”

 

An hour later, Amarantha turned the page of the book, careful not to wake her sister as she read in the dim candlelight. Her eyes trailed over the page, stopping short as she reached the part the book was famous for.

 

“Creators!” Amarantha squeaked, cheeks burning as she slammed the book shut, waking her sister, who grumbled and threw her pillow at her.

  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter for today. Again, apologies for the delay. Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> I know some people aren't fond of Dorian and Iron Bull as a pairing, so if the tags weren't warning enough, there will be Adoribull in this fic. It will not be explicit, but it will be present, so if you don't like that, please be aware that from here on out, mentions and conversations of Bull/Dorian will be had. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! 
> 
> Next chapter: Hawke returns! And where there's Hawke, there's trouble.


	17. A Distant Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition investigate the Wardens; Cullen struggles in silence.

Chapter Seventeen: A Distant Song

 

It had taken some time, but two weeks after the return from the Exalted Plains, the Inquisition received a letter from Hawke informing them that her contact had been located and they were waiting for the Inquisitor to make contact with them in Crestwood. Amarantha had assembled Bull, Dorian, Varric, and Amaryllis to make the journey to Crestwood and the group went on, more lively than usual thanks to Dorian’s constant griping, Bull’s constant joking, and Varric’s constant tales of Hawke’s many adventures.

 

Amaryllis was enthralled by all of it, and she stayed close to Dorian’s side, giggling girlishly as he bickered with Bull. Bull let her ride on his shoulders at one point, which was a source of enjoyment for the girl, and Amarantha decided to tell her about how Bull had carried her when she’d hurt herself at the fall of Haven.

 

“You could probably carry all of us at once,” Amaryllis proclaimed, choosing not to focus on the part of her sister’s story where she nearly died. There was enough of that. She wanted to smile and laugh. She didn’t want to think about death and loss.

 

“You know, we should see how many members of the Inquisition I can carry at once,” Bull said with a laugh, “Who wants to take bets?”

 

“I bet,” Dorian said with a sniff, “That you’re a moron.”

 

“Now that’s not nice,” Bull said with a frown, “You’re setting a bad example for the kid. And here I thought we were warming up to each other.”

 

“Hardly,” Dorian said.

 

“You two are funny,” Amaryllis laughed, running her hand over Bull’s horns, “Your horns are smooth,” she said as she played with the hard surface. Bull smirked.

 

“That’s ‘cause I take good care of ‘em,” he said, “Gotta keep ‘em nice and shiny and smooth.”

 

“You should keep them sharp too,” Amaryllis said, “Then you would have two weapons no matter what.”

 

Bull’s laugh bellowed in the open air. “I like the way this girl thinks!”

 

“Don’t give him ideas, Rilly,” Amarantha chided good naturedly. Though in truth, she imagined that the Bull charging toward an enemy would be quite the sight. Then she chuckled.

 

“What’s so funny?” Dorian asked nosily.

 

“Just… thinking of Bull…. _charging_.”

 

Dorian made a disgusted sound while Bull laughed some more. “See? This is why I stay with the Inquisition,” he declared, “Our leader appreciates a good pun!”

 

“We need a better leader, then,” Dorian remarked, “Preferably one that _doesn’t_ make puns.”

 

From Bull’s shoulders, Amaryllis giggled. “I thought it was funny.”

 

Dorian turned to the girl, “And this is why you need me around, so that I can teach you. You’re young and impressionable, and need someone like me to make sure you’re brought up correctly.”

 

“I’m hardly impressionable,” Amaryllis said, then gripped Bull’s horn. “You should charge at him and see what he does.”

 

Bull threw Dorian a smirk that Amaryllis couldn’t see. “Maybe I will later.”

 

Dorian’s face burned, Amarantha laughed so hard she nearly cried, and Amaryllis once more thought that grown ups were strange.

 

\--------------

 

The meeting point for Hawke was shady at best. It was near the outside of a cave in a mountainous region of Crestwood, and under the cover of night and thunderous rainfall did the group arrive at the cave that had been marked on a small scrap of map that Hawke had sent. She waited outside the cave, leaning against the stone just under the small enclave so as to escape the downpour, and greeted the group when they arrived on horseback, wet and slightly less cheery than when they’d set off on the road a few days prior.

 

“Welcome, welcome,” she greeted as she slapped Varric on the back. “Good to see you made it with only a little trouble.”

 

“We’re just happy to be here,” Amarantha said, squeezing out her hair once she ensured her mount was tied up and safe. Dorian used a spell to dry himself off as well as Amaryllis and Varric, but steadfastly refused to help Amarantha and Bull, claiming that they didn’t deserve his kindness.

 

Choosing not to join in on that fight, Hawke glanced down to the small elf, then back up to Amarantha. The older elf knew exactly what the Champion was thinking and spoke up. “Yes, I know.”

 

The dark haired woman’s brow raised in amusement. “Get the look often enough to know it’s coming, I take it?”

 

“Try all the time.”

 

“I suppose you should consider yourself lucky, then.”

 

Amarantha glanced down at her sister and smiled lovingly. “I do.”

 

“Well this is great you two catching up and all,” Varric said as he moved toward the cave entrance, “But it’s cold as shit out here. Let’s go.”

 

Hawke turned to Amarantha. “Has he been like this the entire time?”

 

“The only thing worse has been Dorian,” Amarantha said the two laughed before following the dwarf inside.

 

They walked down a narrow and dimly lit hallway, Hawke leading them expertly. She reached a door with a skull marking on it and opened it, ushering the group inside. They all entered, Bull ducking to maneuver through and were instantly met with a sword to the Inquisitor’s throat as a man in white glared at her.

 

“Easy, Stroud,” Hawke said moving around the group, “This is the Inquisitor and her team.”

 

“Ah,” Stroud said, pulling away his sword and sheathing it. “My apologies.”

 

“It’s all right,” Amarantha said with a wave of her hand. At the movement, Stroud stepped forward, eyes squinting as he looked at the slight glow that radiated off her.

 

“My,” he said, his accent thick, one of those distinct sounds that was impossible to forget, “You were right, Hawke. It is quite impressive.”

 

Tucking her hand away in slight embarrassment, Amarantha asked what news they’d received that couldn’t be sent in a letter. Stroud spoke, informing them of all he could.

 

It was revealed that all the Wardens were hearing the Calling, a song in the minds of Warden’s that signaled to them it was their time to go into the Deep Roads and meet their end in combat. The whole thing sounded strange to Amarantha, but she assumed that for the Warden’s it was to be expected.

 

“And every Grey Warden is hearing this now?” Hawke asked, upset, “They think they’re dying.”

 

Stroud nodded, abashed, “Yes.”

 

“I wonder if Blackwall has heard it,” she mused silently to her companions, causing Bull to furrow his brow.

 

“He’s not acted any differently,” he said, “But it does make you wonder.”

 

“I have been able to ignore it,” Stroud explained, “Though with some difficulty.” He looked at Hawke and smiled sheepishly, “I am sorry I kept this from you. It was a Grey Warden matter and I was bound to secrecy.”

 

Hawke shrugged, “Well, I know now. But what does this mean for us?”

 

“I am not entirely convinced the Calling is true,” Stroud said, “Corypheus may be behind it.”

 

“Can he do that?” Amarantha asked, glancing toward Hawke.

 

“If he can come back from the dead, then I wouldn’t put it past him,” she replied.

 

“So what happens then,” Amarantha asked, “If the Wardens all die?”

 

“There will be no one to protect the world from the next blight,” Stroud answered simply.

 

“But how is Corypheus making the Wardens hear this?” Varric asked, crossing his arms across his chest, “It makes no sense.”

 

“I am afraid I do not know,” Stroud replied, “There is much we still do not know.”

 

“So the Wardens think they’re dying,” Amarantha said, “Will they all follow through with this Calling? Will any, like you, resist?”

 

Stroud began to pace, his unease of the situation making the tension in the air thicken. He was afraid; fearful for his companions and what might become of them. “Warden Commander Clarel knows of a blood magic ritual that can prevent future blights before we all perish,” he said, “She is going to attempt it.”

 

“That sounds dangerous,” Dorian remarked, hand resting on his chin, “Perhaps we should look into that?”

 

“Oh most definitely,” Stroud agreed, “When I tried to protest the ritual, many of my comrades turned against me. It does not bode well.”

 

“Especially if the Warden’s are killing themselves, and the ritual fails,” Varric pointed out. Stroud made a face.

 

“Let us not think on that,” he said before turning and pointing to a map laid out on a broken table behind him. “The Wardens are gathering at the Western Approach. Perhaps we can reach them in time to stop this?”

 

“We best not waste time then,” Amarantha said,” gesturing to the door, “Let’s go. We can stop by the Inquisition camp two miles back, restock supplies, and I can write to Skyhold to inform them of what is happening.”

 

“Sounds good,” Hawke said, “Let’s go.”

 

A week after meeting Stroud, the group arrived at the Venatori tower in the Western Approach Stroud spoke of. They stopped at the Inquisition camp a few miles back to rest, and Amarantha was greeted by a scout who had a letter waiting for her. Moving to sit behind one of the tents to try to get a little shade, she opened the letter, seeing Josephine’s elegant penmanship.

 

_Inquisitor,_

 

_I have been instructed to tell you to be careful on this mission. We do not know what you will discover at this tower, and Leliana’s agents have been unable to retrieve any information of value. Do let us know what you discover; it might be best to meet before we take any further course of action, depending on the outcome of this visit._

 

_Do be careful, my friend. Everyone sends their well-wishes._

 

_Josephine_

 

Tilting her head back, Amarantha said a silent prayer of thanks for Josephine, though to whom she prayed she didn’t know. She was glad to hear from home, and was glad to know the others seemed to fare well. She shifted, realizing for the first time that there was a second page to the letter. Frowning in confusion, she switched the pages, unable to stop the smile that quickly spread when she saw Cullen’s writing on the second page.

 

 _ ~~Inquisitor~~_ _Amarantha,_

 

_Be careful, my dear. Whatever is going on with these Wardens cannot be good. I know you are more than capable, but I cannot help but worry for you._

 

_I hope you and your sister are well. And, well, everyone else too. But my main concern is the two of you. I hope that doesn’t sound selfish. It probably does._

 

_I miss you. There is no shortage of things to do here, but your absence is sorely noted. And bitterly despised. I eagerly await your (safe) return._

 

_Yours,_

 

_Cullen_

 

Bending her knees to her chest, Amarantha dropped her forehead to rest on her knees, clutching the letter tightly and letting out the softest, but still undeniably girlish squeal. It was ridiculous how silly he made her feel, and it was even more foolish that a simple letter could leave her feeling so giddy and flushed. But it had. She knew she shouldn’t behave so, she was the Inquisitor after all, but she was weary, worried, and she missed Cullen and the others more than she could possibly say. She wanted to go home, to see his eyes light up at the sight of her. She wanted to feel his lips on her skin, always shy and chaste, but with a lingering hunger underneath. They were still so new to this, but there was hardly any time to grow, to develop together, and she wished not for the first time that things could be different; that she could remain at Skyhold or that he could go with her.

 

Creators she missed that man. He called to her like a distant song, beckoning her and she wanted nothing more than to run to him, to find solace and peace. There wasn’t enough of that here.

 

She lifted her head, sticky with sweat from the heat of the day to see Bull standing beside the tent, hands on his hips and an amused look on his face. Amarantha blushed.

 

“Shut up,” she said. Bull lifted his hands in the air.

 

“I didn’t say a word.”

 

“But you have that look.”

 

He chuckled, “Oh, you a professional at reading other’s expressions now?” He teased, reaching down to help the elf to her feet.

 

“No, but I know a smug asshole when I see one.”

 

“And I know a lovesick fool when I see one.”

 

Amarantha looked down to hide her smile. “Yeah…”

 

“It’s cute, you two,” Bull said simply, “You seem a little more at ease when you think about him. Less weighed down.”

 

Amarantha considered this. “I suppose I do.”

 

“Now, if you could just get laid, I bet all your problems would just melt away.”

 

Blanching, Amarantha slapped her friend’s arm. “I don’t need sex to unwind!” She squeaked, slapping a hand over her mouth at the thought of her sister hearing her. Lowering her voice she added cheekily, “I’m not you and Dorian.”

 

Bull smirked. “You heard about that, huh?”

 

The elf nodded. “And when all this shit is done, I expect you to tell me how exactly that happened. Because I called it.”

 

“You did,” Bull agreed, “Gotta admit though, I’m just as surprised as you.”

 

“Yes, well, I’m two for two so far. I think perhaps I have a talent for this.”

 

She patted Bull’s arm softly this time, then moved past him to join the others. Bull followed her. “Wait, who’s the second one?”

 

\----------------

 

The tower was in the middle of the desert, its stone towers peeking out over the sandy dunes like an oasis. It hardly looked welcoming, however, and the group approached the rounded tower ruins with caution. Hawke and Stroud led the way, Varric trailing close behind. The three of them chatted softly, recounting old tales of adventures with Hawke, while Dorian, Bull, and the girls stayed back a few feet. Amaryllis trailed behind just slightly, her young body not used to traveling at such speed. She was used to walking long distances, but it had always been at a slow, leisurely pace, the elders and Keeper taking their time to enjoy the journey. They had always stressed the journey was what mattered, not the destination, but here with the Inquisition, the destination was the goal. She panted as she walked behind, determined to carry her own weight and prove herself.

 

They reached the fortress and the group ahead stopped and turned. Stroud had a look of concern on his face. “The ritual has begun,” he said. Hawke looked annoyed, and Varric troubled. This did not bode well.

 

“Let’s not waste any more time, then,” Amarantha said, wiping sweat from her brow, “This ends now.”

 

They walked forward, slowly, carefully, up the steps to the center of the ruins where the ritual had taken place. A Warden stood in the center, surrounded by others as well as demons, and another Warden, large and imposing, stalked after him with a knife. The younger Warden expressed doubt, and another man who appeared to be presiding over the whole scenario, chided the boy, motioning for the one with the knife to finish the job. He did, stabbing the young Warden in the gut, and the boy promptly fell to the ground, blood pooling from his gut onto the sand covered stone.

 

Beside her, Amaryllis gasped, and Amarantha placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder. The Warden followed his leader’s command, and used some kind of strange magic that glowed red from his hands to lift the dead Warden from the ground. The body began to tremble, then bursting from it was a large demon who looked to be covered in fire and rock. The leader praised the work of the other man, then turned to the next Warden.

 

Amarantha stepped forward, past Hawke and the others. “Enough of this,” she said, her voice loud but low pitched, stern and fierce.

 

The man looked up, but did not seem surprised. “Ah, Inquisitor!” He said, bowing slightly in mock respect, “I thought you might show up. I am Lord Livuis Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service.”

 

“You are no Warden!” Stroud shouted angrily. Erimond merely laughed.

 

“Enough of this,” Amarantha said, taking back control of the situation. “Lord Erimond, I want answers. Why are you doing this? What do you gain by turning Wardens into demons?”

 

“To kill the old gods, of course,” he said as if it were obvious. “Clarel thought my idea was rather excellent.”

 

“So we finally get to meet the demon army, then,” Amarantha said, unimpressed, “I was wondering when they would show up.”

 

That threw the man for a loop. “You are aware,” he began, then shook his head, “It hardly matters. You will die here and there shall be no one to stop my master from his conquest.”

 

“Enough of this,” Hawke said, stepping forward beside the Inquisitor, “I don’t care about your master or any of this. Your plan ends here.”

 

Erimond smirked. “Does it?” He raised his hand, a similar red magic that the other Warden had used spilling forward. Instantly, the mark on Amarantha’s hand sparked and a hot, white pain shot up through her. She screamed, collapsing to the ground in pain. She clutched her hand, tears prickling her eyes as the pain blinded her. She heard her sister cry out, but Dorian held her back, his hands on the girl’s shoulders.

 

“Corypheus taught me how to deal with you,” he taunted, watching as the Inquisitor curled in on herself. “That mark you bear? The Anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my master. He must find another way into the Fade.”

 

As much as it hurt, Amarantha began to force herself to work through the pain. She forced herself onto her knees and threw out her hand, the green magic of the mark toward Erimond, and the clash of magic exploded, knocking back Erimond to the ground. The pain dimmed, and Hawke guided Amarantha to her feet. The elf nodded in thanks, then turned to face Erimond, who was standing shakily to his feet.

 

“Tell your master I don’t care,” she spat, “Dread Wolf take him. And you.”

 

Erimond gripped his side, clearly injured, and backed away quickly. “Kill them,” he addressed his men, “Now.”

 

The Wardens and demons turned, clearly under the control of Erimond, and unsheathed their weapons, eyes glowing a dull red, no life behind them whatsoever.

 

“Stand ready,” Hawke instructed, and Amarantha unsheathed her daggers.

 

“Inquisition,” she cried, “Attack!”

 

The group rushed forward, magic and blades flying in every direction. Amaryllis stood at the back as she’d been instructed, throwing fire at the demons while Varric, who stood to her left, and Dorian on her right, shot daggers and protection spells. Stroud fought diligently, loudly chanting the Warden’s pledge, and Amarantha prayed as she sank her blade into a demon, asking the gods to grant these men peace.

 

When it was done, they stood in a pool of blood belonging to Stroud’s brothers, and he sighed wearily, dropping his weapon to the ground.

 

“Maker,” he whispered.

 

Breathing heavily, Amarantha rested a hand on his arm. Coming up to join them, Bull looked around. “Shit,” he said. “This is no good.”

 

“Of course not,” Dorian agreed. “Human sacrifices, demon armies. It’s all going to shit.”

 

“Not if we can stop them,” Amarantha said. “Stroud, where did Erimond go?”

 

Stroud pointed east. “My guess is the abandoned Warden fortress Adamant,” he said, “I believe the Wardens may be there.”

 

“Then we go there,” Amarantha replied. “I will not let Corypheus take these Wardens.”

 

“We cannot do this alone,” Stroud said, “It will take an army to get in there. And then who knows what we might face.”

 

“Then it’s a good thing the Inquisition has an army,” Amarantha replied. “You and Hawke scout the area, try to make sure that’s where the Wardens are. Send word to Skyhold. We will go there, meet with Commander Rutherford and the other and form a plan of action.”

 

The Warden and Champion nodded, and turned to move on, not wasting any time. Amarantha turned to her comrades. “We should head back to Skyhold,” she said. “We need to plan.”

 

\-----------------

 

Cullen leaned over his desk, forearms holding himself up. He was exhausted, but his pile of paperwork left little doubt that he would get sleep any time soon. Things were beginning to pick up, and he had a suspicion that whatever news Amarantha brought back from her journey to look for the Wardens would only be bad. He wasn’t always so pessimistic, but he _was_ tired, and perhaps that was when the melancholy set in, he reasoned; when he was too tired to fight it. He sighed, feeling the tell-tale signs of sickness beginning to slip into the crevices of his body. He shook his head and pressed it to the flat of his desk, and prayed a quick prayer to Andraste for guidance. After a moment, he stood and opened the drawer of his desk, glancing down at an ornate box that had slid forward from the force of his opening the drawer. He reached for it, then stopped, slammed the drawer shut and sank to his knees.

 

“Andraste, preserve me,” he said. Standing, he bit his lip, the sharp pain enough to jar him, and he bent over his paperwork once more, forcing himself to read each word.

 

A knock sounded, then the door opened, and Cullen looked up to see Solas slip into the room. “I thought you would still be awake,” the elf said in greeting. Cullen motioned the elf forward, standing up straighter and adjusting his armor. He’d yet to take it off, and it was starting to grow uncomfortable.

 

“Can I help you, Solas?”

 

Cullen wasn’t close to the apostate. They got along fine, and he knew that Amarantha valued the older elf’s council and wisdom greatly. She looked to him like an older brother, perhaps even a father at times. It was enough to make Cullen trust the elf, even if he was a little wary of the man’s ability to travel through the Fade.

 

“I was wondering if you had received any word from the Inquisitor?”

 

Cullen smiled at that. It was another mark in favor of Solas that he showed active concern for Amarantha. Digging through the stacks of parchments, Cullen pulled out a letter he’d received a few hours ago from a scout.

 

“No word from her directly,” Cullen said with a slight frown, “But Leliana’s scouts sent word that the Tevinter tower proved to be worse than anticipated, but that the group is returning to prepare plans for attack on Adamant Fortress.”

 

“The old Warden’s fortress?” Solas questioned, “Then this is worse than we thought.”

 

“Indeed,” Cullen agreed, “It does not bode well. But We will wait for everyone to return before we make any decisions.

 

“That would be best,” Solas said. “Thank you for the information, Commander. I am more at ease knowing the Inquisitor is well.”

 

“She is,” Cullen said. “The letter also says that Amaryllis is doing well. She fought alongside everyone at the tower, apparently. None of them were wounded, beyond a few minor scrapes.”

 

“Good,” Solas said. “She is strong, Amaryllis. I am quite impressed with her.”

 

“As am I,” Cullen agreed, “And I know it helps Amarantha to have her closeby. She worries, but I think she is relieved to be with her, even in the midst of battle.”

 

“They are a force or sheer power, that much is certain,” Solas agreed, before looking away. “You...make her happy.”

 

Cullen blinked. “Pardon?”

 

Solas turned and met Cullen’s gaze. “You,” he repeated, “Make Amarantha happy. It is a comfort to know that she has you.”

 

“She has you as well,” Cullen said, “And Cassandra, Josephine…”

 

“Yes, but, I am speaking solely of you,” Solas said, “You have her heart, Commander. Treasure it.”

 

“I do,” he said.

 

“Good.” With that Solas turned to exit. “Remember that, even in the darkest moments, and you will have all the hope you need.” Before Cullen could ask what he meant, the elf was gone. Shaking his head, Cullen turned back to his work, his mind fully on the thought of seeing Amarantha once more.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies once more for the delay. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading! As always I appreciate it. 
> 
> Next chapter: The Battle at Adamant.


	18. Victory, Vigilance, Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Adamant takes place, and does more damage than any one could have anticipated.

Chapter Eighteen: Victory, Vigilance, Sacrifice 

 

The siege of the Adamant Fortress was going to be no easy task. Upon the return to Skyhold it had been quickly decided that there was no choice but to send forth the Inquisition’s army to break the hold that was on the fortress. Word from Hawke and Stroud confirmed their earlier suspicion that the Wardens were indeed there, and that things were escalating. Though Hawke hadn’t come out and said it, all who read the letter knew exactly what she was saying:  _ get your asses here now. _

 

So just as quickly as they returned did they set out again, this time with the forces of the Inquisition at their backs. It was strange, having Cullen with her as they marched across Thedas to the fortress, but being able to look to her left to see the man she loved so dearly was a wonderful comfort, even as they were heading into a deciding battle for the sake of the world. 

 

And the battle escalated quickly. The Inquisition forces were indeed powerful, but the army of Wardens and demons proved to be a tough and equal match. Trebuchets were brought in from one of the Inquisition’s allies, and a large battering ram was making quick work of the large wooden door that had been barred from the inside. Smaller factions of troops were working on the choke points Leliana’s agents had uncovered, and Amarantha waited impatiently with her companions for the door to give so she could find Clarel and stop this madness. The mark sparked through her gloved hand as a physical sign of her anxiety, and she clenched her hand into a fist at her side, silently demanding the mark to obey her and calm. 

 

Watching as she soldiers worked, Amarantha wondered idly how she had gone from Dalish girl sent to spy on the Conclave to a leader of an armed force who was laying siege on a fortress filled with manipulated and demon-turned Wardens. It was nothing like she’d imagined her future, yet here she was, her sister at her side, staff in her small hand and a glower on her face that hinted at her determination to not be afraid more than anything else. Amarantha hadn’t wanted her sister to come, but she’d known exactly how the argument would have progressed. So she’d merely told her sister to stay by her side at all times. Her sister wanted to help? She would help. Amarantha had long since resolved herself to the fact that this war would claim too many lives, but if her sister wanted to risk her own, she was not going to stop her. They both understood the danger; they had both been impacted by the cruelty of this fight. She wouldn’t deprive Amaryllis the opportunity to do something about it, even as the thought of seeing her sister fall shook her to her very core.

 

The door gave way under the intense beating of the ram, and instantly men on the other side lurched forward, attacking Inquisition troops. The small group of enemies were quickly disposed of, and Amarantha motioned for her team to enter through the gates, and they stood silently in the entryway of the fortress, taking in the sight of the battle, truly, for the first time. 

 

Beside her, Cullen spoke, “Alright, Inquisitor,” he said, the title sounding almost foreign on his tongue, “You have a way in. Best make use of it.” 

 

Amarantha stood firm, looking straight ahead. “Yes, Commander.” 

 

“We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as possible.” 

 

“We’ll be fine. Just take care of your men.” She turned to look at the Commander, silently telling him,  _ Keep yourself safe. _

His eyes softened for a moment, but then he hardened them, restoring himself to his professional role. “We’ll do what we have to,” he said, not unkindly, “Warden Stroud will watch your back,” Cullen said, motioning to Stroud who stood with the rest of the group. “Hawke is already on the battlements.” 

 

“Of course she is,” Varric muttered behind them. 

 

As they spoke, a soldier, marked with the Inquisition regalia, fell from the battlements and landed with a thud on the ground below. Amaryllis gasped, and Amarantha winced, fighting back tears and sending up a silent prayer for the fallen soldier. Glancing at Cullen, he looked just as stricken, but allowed himself no feeling as he ground out, “We cannot get a foothold on the walls. There’s too much resistance.” 

 

Turning back to her team, Amarantha called out, “Cassandra! Lead Vivienne, Dorian, Blackwall, and Sera to the walls. Get the soldiers a foothold! Varric, Bull, Solas, Cole, and Rilly, you’re with me.”

 

The teams nodded, and Cassandra threw a look to the others. “Maker watch over you,” she said, her gaze lingering for a moment before she turned, drew her sword, and led the others with her toward the battlements. Glancing to Cullen, Amarantha gave a curt nod. 

 

“And we’re off to find Warden Clarel,” she said, “May the gods watch over you.” 

 

“And you as well,” he said, squeezing her hand before releasing her and taking a step back. “Go, Inquisitor.” 

 

Amarantha withdrew her daggers and led her team to find Clarel. 

 

They ran, fighting demons along their path with deft precision, tearing down the enemy with no mercy. Amarantha sliced and carved into the demons, working well with Bull and Cole who hacked away at the creatures with equally efficiency. Behind them, Solas and Amaryllis used magic and arrows to stagger creatures and protect the others, while Varric pierced the creatures with his sharp, poisoned arrows. 

 

When one particularly nasty demon that stood taller than even Bull fell in a heap of ooze and blood, Amaryllis let out a shout of triumph.“Dread Wolf take you, foul creature!” 

 

Solas smirked, and sent a blast of electricity to another creature, frying it until it crumbled into dust. 

 

They moved on, the walls getting cleared by Cassandra and her team. Hawke was with them now as well, and together the group laid waste to the demons. Amarantha and her team ran past, and Cassandra called out that she heard chanting to the east of where they were, and the elf motioned her team forward. 

 

They came to a doorway in a secluded corner of the fortress and with a nod to Bull, the Qunari kicked the door open with a roar, the wood and iron shattering from the force. They entered to find a balcony where numerous Wardens stood. A strange magic permeated the air, and the mark on Amarantha’s hand shot to life, throbbing and angry. She ignored it, clenching her fist, and looked around, trying to determine where Clarel might be. They rushed in in time to see a woman, clearly Clarel, slit the throat of a man who fell to the ground in a heap. Behind her stood Erimond, looking smug. Amarantha’s eyes narrowed, and her blood boiled at the sight of the hateful man, and her mark sparked and swirled around her arm. 

 

Looking away from the corpse, Erimond laid eyes on the Inquisitor and scowled. “The Inquisition is here!” He bellowed, “Stop them! We must complete the ritual!” 

 

Storming forward, the magic of the mark swirling like a whirlwind, Amarantha shouted, “Clarel, stop this now! If you do this, you’re doing exactly what Erimond wants! He cannot be trusted!” 

 

“We make the sacrifices no one else will!” Clarel replied, though there was a slight waver in her voice, “Our Wardens proudly die for a world that will never thank them,” 

 

“You don’t have to die!” Amarantha replied. Stroud stepped forward and added, “Your Tevinter mage is binding the mages to Corypheus! That cannot be a sacrifice worth making!” 

 

Clarel balked, falling back a step. “Corypheus,” she breathed, “But he is dead.” 

 

“These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel,” Erimond hissed in her ear, “Do not listen to them.” 

 

“Silence!” Amarantha shouted, “Your deceit is revealed, shem!” She turned her gaze to Clarel. “Please, Clarel, listen to us! Listen to reason! You don’t have to do this!” 

 

Clarel stood for a long moment, dropping her head into her hands as if there was a war within her mind, demanding and pulling. Finally she looked up, resolved. “Bring it through!” 

 

“Damn it,” Amarantha cursed. 

 

Suddenly, Hawke appeared behind them just as a rift appeared before them where the Wardens stood in a circle. She called out, “Please stop this madness! I have seen enough blood magic! It is not worth it!” 

 

The elf glanced in concern at Hawke, but she waved the elf’s worry away. “They have it covered,” she said, “I’m needed here.” 

 

She then looked up to the Wardens, “There are others who have seen beyond this madness! Join them, join us! We can stop Corypheus without all this senseless bloodshed!” 

 

Clarel once more looked doubtful, but Erimond stepped forward, raising his stave to the sky, “My master thought you might come here and interrupt us, Inquisitor! So he sent this to welcome you!” 

 

A piercing screech shot through the sky, and the group looked up to see a large dragon-like creature hovering above them. Amarantha tensed. “Creators,” she gasped, “No.” 

 

“You know this thing?” Hawke asked, surprised. 

 

“Yes,” the elf replied. “I faced it down when Haven fell.” All at once, she recalled the pain in her leg, arm and chest. Her breathing hitched and suddenly it was difficult to take a breath. This creature had been what led to the destruction of Haven. This had been what almost killed her. The mark swirled brighter around her, and she swallowed her fear, refusing to be brought down by this monster. 

 

It swooped down, shooting a blast of magic from it’s mouth, causing the group to fling themselves out of the way, lest they be hit. The creature swooped back into the air, and proceeded to circle around them, screeching every so often impatiently. Following Erimond’s gestures, it ultimately landed on the top of the keep, roaring as it did so. 

 

The group below gathered together again to try to decide what to do but as they did, Clarel, who had backed away from the creature opposite her in fear, threw a blast of magic at Erimond, knocking him to the ground. His shout caught the other’s attention and they watched as Clarel threw another blast of magic at the dragon, who promptly returned the favor, knocking Clarel flat on her back. She stood with a groan, then turned to face the Wardens. 

 

“Help the Inquisitor!” She demanded. Behind her, Erimond stood, and fled. Clarel turned and pursued. The Wardens wavered for a moment, then turned to the Inquisitor, and saluted. 

 

“Demons are coming from the rift!” Amarantha called, “Kill them! I’m going after Clarel!”

 

The Wardens turned, and attacked. 

 

Amarantha motioned for the others to follow her, and they did, running past the rift, slaying demons as they went. The dragon took to the air to follow them as they chased after Clarel, fighting as they moved, which slowed them down and only caused Amarantha to grow more angry. She slashed and hacked demons, calling out for Clarel the entire way. Finally they caught up to her, to see her standing off against Erimond. She threw a blast at him, followed by another, and another. 

 

She hit him once more, shouting at him while he replied with hateful yet weak words. She hit him again, and he curled up on the ground, groaning in pain. Amarantha moved forward to intervene, but a hand on her shoulder jerked her back. She turned to argue with whoever grabbed her but was stopped short when the dragon swooped down and grabbed Clarel with it’s teeth, the bones of her body crunching as the sharp fangs of the dragon cut through her. Her legs dangled from the mouth, flailing for a moment before the dragon leapt into the air, landed on another part of the bridge and spit out the woman, who tumbled to the ground, bloodied, broken, and unmoving.

 

Amaryllis covered her eyes with her hands, and Solas wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Bull let go of Amarantha. “Shit,” he murmured.

 

The dragon rounded on them, dropping down to the bridge where they were and stalked toward them. As it passed over the body of Clarel, the woman groaned and forced herself to lift her hand, which was bent at an odd angle, the bone sticking out at the elbow. 

 

“In war, victory,” she whispered, the sound pained and rough, “In peace, vigilance.” A blast shot from her hand at the underbelly of the dragon, causing a massive explosion that shook the very earth. The stone cracked beneath them, and the dragon fell where the stone gave way under it. 

 

“MOVE!” Amarantha shouted to the others, and they began to race away from the falling stone to safety. Amaryllis tripped, but managed to keep going, her fear fueling her to run ever faster. The others ran as well, but before they could reach the battlements, the cracking stone caught up to them and their feet hit nothing but air before they began to fall. 

 

A chorus of screams were heard, and in a last ditch effort, Amarantha cried out and flung her pulsing hand forward and enveloped them all in a swirl of green light. 

 

\-------------

 

At the foot of the keep, Cullen, Cassandra, and the others rushed to the sound of the explosion, just in time to see Amarantha and the others fall. Cullen cried out Amarantha’s name, but Cassandra gripped his arm with a fierce hand even as tears began to slide down her own cheeks. 

 

There was a loud pop, followed by a swirl of green, and then silence. 

 

“No,” Cullen said, stepping back from the edge, sword hanging limply at his side. “No.” 

 

“Maker,” Cassandra whispered, ignoring the burning in her eyes, “Amarantha….Varric…” 

 

Dorian said nothing, merely looked down as he fought back a stream of curses. He stayed silent, but gripped the staff in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned white and the wood splintered. 

 

\-------------

 

Groaning, Amarantha opened her eyes to see the world around her was….strange. There was a haze of green, like a fog, and stone and debris hovered in the air, floating as if by magic. Lifting her hand, Amarantha was surprised to see the mark was quiet, calm. It pulsed with every beat of her heart, but not in a painful way, and she let her hand rest on her head, where a dull ache was forming. 

 

“Where are we?” She groaned. 

 

“I’m wondering the same thing,” said a voice to her left. Moving to sit up, she saw Stroud standing sideways on a floating rock. Next to him, only upside down, was Hawke. 

 

“Are we dead?” She asked. 

 

“No,” another voice said. It was Solas, who was wandering around the area, eyes shining in wonder. “This is the Fade.” 

 

“The Fade!” Amaryllis gasped, sitting up and holding her arm, which had a thin trail of blood running down it. “How did we get here?” 

 

Amarantha glanced at her hand. “I think that’s on me,” she said sheepishly.

 

“That’s correct,” Solas said. “The Inquisitor opened a rift. We came through and survived. Look,” he said, “The Black City, just there. I never thought I would be here physically. This is incredible, da’len.” 

 

“Yeah, sure,” Bull groaned from his spot on the ground, “It’s fan-fucking-tastic. What do we do now?” 

 

“We have to get back,” Amarantha said, standing slowly. “Solas, any ideas?”

 

Before he could answer, Cole cried out from his place on his knees, hands clasped to his ears. “I can’t be here,” he cried, “Not like this! Not like me!” 

 

Amarantha and Solas rushed to him, Varric following behind slowly. “It’s alright, Cole,” Amarantha said, “You’ll be alright.” 

 

“No,” he said, beginning to rock back and forth. Amarantha gathered the boy in her arms. 

 

“Remember when you were in my head and you helped me?” She asked. He nodded and ceased rocking. “Well, let’s pretend we’re in your head now. In a memory. And we’re going to get out now just like we did then. Can you do that?” 

 

Cole sat up and looked at her strangely. “Real but not real. Not real and pretending. It’s a game, but the stakes are higher. Pretend to be what I am so I won’t be what I’m not.” 

 

“You got it, kid?” Varric asked. 

 

Cole thought for a moment, then nodded. “I...yes.” 

 

“Good,” Amarantha said, helping him stand. “So how do we escape?” 

 

“We must go through a rift,” Solas said, “It is how the demons escape. We must do the same.” 

 

“There were rifts in the fortress,” Amaryllis spoke up, “I saw them. Can we go through one of those?” 

 

“Yeah,” Bull agreed, “Like...now?” 

 

Solas smirked. “We can,” he said, “Let’s go.” 

 

Hawke jumped down from her spot, landing right-side up with the group. “This is not how I remembered this place,” she murmured. Varric chuckled. 

 

“Yeah, well, things change I guess,” he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just get out of here.” 

 

“You’re right,” she said, motioning for Stroud to follow.

 

They walked a ways in silence, staying on alert for demons or other creatures. At length, Varric spoke, “Is this what dreaming’s like? Because if so, then I’m suddenly very glad to be a dwarf.” 

 

“And I’m suddenly wishing I were a dwarf,” Bull said in reply. That brought a chuckle out of the group, then they fell back in silence. 

 

“We must be wary,” Solas said after a time. “This place is ripe with fear.”

 

“Is this what the Fade was like when you were in it, Inquisitor? “Hawke asked softly. 

 

Amarantha shrugged. “I don’t remember the first time. Though it  _ does _ feel familiar. But Solas is right. Don’t trust anything here. Be careful.” 

 

They walked on, Cole muttering to himself behind them. He was quiet but frantic in his ramblings and after a few minutes Amaryllis slipped back, holding her staff in her right hand and taking Cole’s left. She squeezed and offered the boy a smile. He paused, then smiled back slowly, squeezing her hand and the mutterings stopped. He took a breath, released it, and glanced at the smaller elf. 

 

“You helped.” 

 

She grinned. “Good.” 

 

On they moved, rounding a bend only to stop short. Before them stood a woman cloaked in Chantry robes, and Amarantha stared for a moment before Hawke whispered beside her, “Most Holy.” 

 

The woman looked up, smiled a motherly grin, and bade them forward. They moved, but Amarantha kept her hands on her daggers, ready to strike if this were a trick. The woman smiled. 

 

“It is good to see you, Inquisitor. And you as well, Warden and Champion.” 

 

Amarantha recognized the woman’s voice. “You’re the Divine,” she breathed, astonished. 

 

“No,” Stroud said, “She is likely a demon or spirit. Be wary.” 

 

“What I am does not matter,” Justinia said, “What does matter is that I am here to help.” 

 

“She’s right,” Cole said, still gripping Amaryllis’ hand. “She wants to help. I can feel it.” 

 

“Then help us, please,” Amarantha said, “What are we doing here? And how do we escape?” 

 

“Hold on,” Hawke said, “We can’t know for certain she is telling the truth.” 

 

“Proving myself one way or another will only take precious time,” Justinia said, “I wish to help. Please let me.” 

 

“You are in the lair of a demon that feeds off fears, and nightmares. It grows fat upon the terror of those from whom it feeds. It is responsible for the false calling the Warden’s heard.”

 

“Then we must avenge my brethren, who were tricked by this foul creature!” Stroud declared passionately. 

 

Justinia continued, “You will have your chance,” she said, voice calm and soothing. “But Inquisitor,” she turned her attention to the elf, “When you first entered the Fade, the demon took a part of you. It is like a nightmare that you cannot remember upon awakening, but you know it’s there, haunting you. You must retrieve that part of yourself before you go.” 

 

She motioned into the distance where green glowing creatures lurked, “Those are your memories. You must get them back.” 

 

Glancing back to her comrades, they all agreed and rushed forward to slay the demons. When the last was killed, a bright light flashed before their eyes and an image appeared before them. 

 

_ Justinia was held high, bound by Wardens who held her midair, their magic digging its way into her skin.  _

 

_ “Someone help me!” She cried.  _

 

_ Corypheus appeared from the shadows, tall and menacing, holding an orb that glowed green in his grasp. “Keep the sacrifice still,” he commanded in an eerily creepy and calm tone. He stretched his hand forward, pausing when the door to his left burst open and Amarantha stepped in.  _

 

_ “What’s going on here?” She asked, looking around in confusion. None of what she saw made sense, and the old woman who was being held looked worried yet relieved. “Run while you can! Warn them!” She cried before summoning her strength and knocking the orb from Corypheus’ hand. It rolled toward Amarantha and she reached down to catch it. The instant her hand wrapped around the orb it began to spark and shake, and she screamed in pain, dropping the orb before it burst in a flash of light once more.  _

 

Amarantha bent over, breathing heavily, tears prickling her eyes. The others watched her in varying looks of confusion and concern. 

 

“So,” Stroud said at length, “It appears you are not Andraste’s chosen after all.” 

 

The words pierced through her, and Amarantha sank to the ground, hand gripped in the other as she stared at the mark. It hadn’t been divine intervention. It hadn’t been the will of a god. It had been her. She’d grabbed the orb and done this to herself. On accident. 

 

_ None of the gods are with me _ , she thought, panicked,  _ What have I done? I shouldn’t be here. I was not chosen. I am not chosen.  _

 

A hand rested on her shoulder and she looked up sharply to see Solas. “It’s alright,” he whispered, “Chosen or not, you are here now. And we must move on.” 

 

Numbly, Amarantha agreed and allowed Solas to help her to her feet and usher her forward where Justinia stood once more. 

 

“Corypheus intended to open the veil, pass through the Fade and open the gates to the Black City. You stopped his plan. The anchor attached itself to you instead.” 

 

“So,” Bull said simply, “It was dumb luck.”

 

“Or lack thereof,” Varric added, but the banter brought Amarantha no comfort. 

 

“Let’s keep going,” she said simply, turning and leading the way ahead. Justinia nodded. 

 

“I will make a way for you.”

 

Amarantha didn’t respond, merely continued to walk. 

 

They moved on, and as they did, a voice - Corypheus’ voice - began to call out to them. It spoke to each of them in turn, taunting their fears, exploiting them and trying to unnerve them. No one paid the voice any mind, each determined not to acknowledge the creature, even as it picked at their weaknesses, laughing all the while. 

 

They continued on, Justinia’s glowing form leading them as they went. They followed silently, save for the occasional taunting from Corypheus, slaying more of the glowing demons as they went. Another memory appeared, flashing before their eyes. 

 

_ Amarantha ran. The stairs were steep, but the large spiders behind her were gaining, and she wasn’t about to become their prey. She moved quicker, and when she neared the top of the steps, a woman- Justinia- grabbed her hand and pulled her up. They ran together, hand in hand toward the rift, but then something grabbed hold of the Divine, yanking both women to a standstill. Amarantha tugged on the Divine, trying to free her from the creature’s grasp.  _

 

_ The Divine shook her head. “No,” she whispered, “Go.” And then yanked her hand away from the elf and was pulled back to the darkness that was closing in around them.  _

 

_ “NO!” Amarantha called, but there was nothing left to be done, and so she turned and leapt into the rift. _

 

Amarantha blinked once more, tearfully. Beside her Amaryllis stared at the Divine. “You saved my sister,” she whispered. Justinia nodded serenely. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“You lead me through the Fade,” Amarantha said, looking up tearfully. “And you….she died.” 

 

“Yes,” Justinia said again. Amaryllis stepped closer. 

 

“So you’re a spirit,” she whispered. Justinia nodded. “You’re a nice spirit.” 

 

The woman smiled. “Thank you, little warrior.” At that, she transformed, lifting herself up in the air as a bright golden glow surrounded her. They group looked up, some nervous, others in awe. She floated, a young and lively looking thing, more at ease in this form than in the weary makeup of the Divine. 

 

“You have helped us so far,” Amarantha said to the spirit. “And for that I thank you. Can you help us once more, so that we can leave this place?” 

 

The spirit smiled. “Of course.” 

 

Hawke bristled for a moment. “So the mortal Divine is killed at the Temple, all thanks to the Grey Wardens.” 

 

Stroud glanced her way. “The Wardens that were responsible for that crime were under the influence of Corypheus. It is hardly right to blame them all when not all acted.” 

 

“And yet, it’s still the Warden’s fault.” 

 

Stroud stepped up to Hawke, looking down at her harshly, “We can discuss this back in Adamant,” he said, “I will not fight you here.” 

 

“Ah, yes, Adamant,” Hawke said with a unamused laugh, “The place where the Inquisition is fighting a demon army raised by Warden’s. You fooled with blood magic and this is the price!”

 

“And what of you!” Stroud demanded, “You tore down Kirkwall with your mage rebellion!”

 

“I did that to help protect innocent mages, not-” 

 

“ _ Shut up!” _

 

Both turned to face Amarantha, hands balled into fists, the mark sparking in her anger. “We are stuck in the middle of the damn Fade, and you two want to have this out now?” She huffed. “Well, how about this? There are guilty mages, and innocent mages. There are guilty Wardens and innocent Wardens. You can’t do anything about what’s already happened, so why don’t you both get your heads out of your asses and focus on getting the hell out of here! We have an army to get back to and every second we waste in here is a potential disaster for my men out there, and I will not return to see my people laid waste simply because you two want to play ‘who’s more guilty’!” 

 

The group stared at her for a moment, mouths agape at her outburst. She’d never behaved that way in front of them before, and she realized that a moment too late. Composing herself, she swallowed, adjusted her clothes, and sighed. “If I may try that again more kindly-” 

 

“Nah,” said Bull dismissively, “You're right. I want to get out of this shit hole.” 

 

“Same,” said Varric. “And I’m just impressed that someone had the balls to tell Hawke to get her head out of her ass and live. Go you.” 

 

“Can it, Varric,” Hawke growled, but she nodded curtly to Stroud and said no more on the subject. She moved to the front of the group, leading by default, and no one said anything to stop her. 

 

They continued on, fighting demons as they went. They were sparse, of which everyone was glad. The trek was made in silence, the tension thick and uncomfortable, but they worked through it, no one speaking and everyone ignoring the ever-growing taunting of Corypheus. Eventually they rounded another bend, which led to an open area that at one end held-

 

“Is that a cemetery?” Amaryllis asked, standing beside Cole. 

 

Everyone moved closer to investigate and Bull entered first, stopping short when he reached one specific headstone.

 

“Well, shit,” he hissed. 

 

“What?” Varric asked, following the Qunari. He glanced down, a frown quickly spreading over his features. “Well, shit,” he repeated. 

 

Each of the headstones held the name of a member in the party. All were there: Amarantha, Solas, Hawke, Cole, Bull, even those who were not present all had tombstones neatly arranged in little rows like a planted garden. Their names all etched in stone. What was worse, though, was what lay under the name. Some of them didn’t make sense, Amarantha thought as she glanced at Varric’s stone:  _ Became his parents _ . Bull’s read,  _ madness. _ She didn’t understand, until she found her own headstone in the back corner.

 

Below her name sat the word:  _ Failure _

 

It was her greatest fear. 

 

“Creators,” she breathed, a hand flying to her mouth. Amaryllis’ stone was beside hers, and the girl knelt in front of it, staring wide-eyed as she took in her own fear:  _ Loss of Control. _

 

No one looked at each other; merely stood in front of their own marker, staring at the thing they feared most. Solas rested his hand against his stone, knuckles turning white, and Bull kicked his, knocking it over where it landed with a loud  _ thud _ . 

 

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, marching out of the cemetery, not waiting on anyone else. The others followed, save for Amaryllis and Amarantha. The older elf stared at her marker, rage seething underneath. She’d never felt like this before, but everything about this place had unnerved her; had ripped her apart and sewn her back together crooked and twisted. Amaryllis touched her sister’s arm. 

 

“Sister…” 

 

“I’m fine,” she snapped, then bit her tongue, and sighed. “I’m fine, dear one,” she said softer, leaning up to kiss her sister’s forehead through the dirt and grime. “Let’s go.” 

 

She turned, startling to see Solas standing there, still staring at his stone. Silently she watched him for a long moment before approaching him. She rested a hand on his forearm, purposely not looking at his fear and murmured, “Come on.” 

 

He lifted his hand to rest atop hers, silently acknowledging her and when his hand fell away, Amarantha moved past to catch up to the others. Amaryllis mimicked the gesture, but she did chance a look at his stone. Frowning, she wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezed, then released him to follow her sister. 

 

Solas glared at his marker, then quickly stepped to look at the words on the girls’. He sneered, and with a silent burst of magic he shattered the two gravestones. Returning to his own, he stared at it a moment longer, the words taunting him maliciously.  

 

_ Solas  _

 

_ Dying alone  _

 

With a feral growl, he blasted his tombstone until it was nothing more than dust, then ran to catch up with the others.

 

They followed the Divine, listening as she filled the silence with instructions and wisdom. She told them they must get through the rift and then close it immediately, which would banish the demon army and put a large dent in Corypheus’ plans. 

 

The group moved on, fighting against demons and growing more weary and irritable by the minute. As they moved, a few spirits floated up, friendly and harmless, and circled around Amaryllis and Cole before disappearing in a flash of light. The girl looked puzzled, but Cole merely smiled and pulled her along with him. 

 

“They like you.” 

 

Amaryllis considered Cole’s words and decided that if the spirits were anything like Cole, then she liked them too. 

 

At long last, they reached a staircase which they went up quickly, then through a cave-like tunnel, dripping and wet and cold. There was a light at the other side, bright and almost cheerful even through the green haze, but when they reached it, the group stopped short, and Amarantha gasped in horror. Behind her, several voices cursed, and before her stood the most terrifying creature she’d ever seen. 

 

It was large, larger than even the demon-dragon that Corypheus had sent to finish her at Haven. It was like a giant spider, red with numerous legs, and beady eyes and fangs that dripped venom onto the floor below it. In front of it stood another creature, more manlike than the other, though it wasn’t human at all. It bore the shape of man, but spider-like legs circled around from it’s back, and it grinned with wicked sharp fangs, looking ready to devour them whole. 

 

The spirit of Justinia raced forward, stopping beside the Inquisitor. “If you would,” she said, “Please tell Leliana: ‘I am sorry; I failed you, too.’” With that she rushed toward the giant creature, her light growing until it took over the entire room, blinding everyone with its brightness. She burst into a sparkle of magic, and when the light dimmed, the creature was gone, leaving only the nightmarish man in its wake. It hissed at them, and Amarantha adjusted her daggers in her grip. 

 

“For Justinia,” she said, “And for all those who fell to this creature’s madness.” 

 

They cried out, and attacked. 

 

\----------------

 

Cullen, Cassandra, and the others continued to fight, motivated by the pain they felt at seeing their friends and loved ones vanish before their very eyes. They had no knowledge of what happened, of whether the others had survived, and while they fought with the anger and sorrow of having lost them, they clung to the hope that they would return. 

 

They had to cling to hope. Everything else was falling apart around them. 

 

Cullen slashed a demon in two, then turned to Dorian, who was throwing magic at another one. “We can’t keep this up!” Dorian shouted, “There are too many!” 

 

“We keep it up until we fall,” Cullen said, “I’m not going down without a fight.” 

 

Dorian nodded, and threw a blast to a demon that had appeared behind Cullen. “Nor I.” He smirked, though his heart was not in it. “Let’s take these bastards down for taking our friends.” 

 

“I refuse to believe they’re gone,” Cassandra snapped as she kicked a demon over a ledge. “They are  _ not _ gone. Not until I see a body; until then I refuse to believe he-they are dead.” 

 

“Oh I’m with you,” Dorian said, “But I’m still itching to get these bastard’s back for what they’ve done.” 

 

“Then look left,” Cassandra shouted, “And take them down!”

 

“For the Inquisitor! Cullen shouted, “For our friends!” The battle cry rallied the troops, and they began to fight harder, determined to do their leader proud.  

 

\---------------------

 

With the demon dead, or at least vanished for the moment, the group allowed themselves a moment of triumph, then rushed toward the rift. The ground shook as they moved, knocking them off balance, and suddenly the large spider creature that the spirit of Justinia had assaulted returned, seemingly larger than before, and twice as angry. The group froze, stunned and afraid. 

 

“What do we do?” Amaryllis asked, fear making her voice shake. Cole took her hand to comfort her like she’d done earlier, holding both daggers in his other hand. It was a small gesture, but it seemed to help, and the girl swallowed thickly but faced the monster, refusing to look away. 

 

Stroud stepped forward, “Go,” he said, addressing Amarantha. “I will distract the monster so you can escape.” 

 

“No!” Hawke hissed, coming up to stand on the other side, leaving Amarantha in the middle, “I should stay. I thought I defeated Corypheus once, now’s my chance to make up for my failure.” She gave Stroud a pointed look, “You can help rebuild the Wardens.” 

 

“And it’s because of the Wardens that this is even an argument,” Stroud said, “I should stay.” 

 

“Whatever the decision, we must make it now,” Solas called, his voice tight with nervousness, “We cannot stay here and argue.” 

 

Amarantha glanced at the two, both of whom were staring at her expectantly. “You cannot expect me to make this choice,” she said. Behind her Varric cried, “Hawke you can’t do this!” 

 

Hawke turned back to look at Varric and offered him her best smile. “But I can,” she said, “And I am.” She stepped back and drew her weapon, the look on her face eager and brave. “You’re a good man, Varric,” she said, “And it has been an honor to call you friend.” 

 

“Hawke, no!” Varric shouted, even as he was pulled toward the rift by Bull. 

 

“Inquisitor!” She shouted as she began to hack at the demon, “Take care of him for me!” 

 

Amarantha stood for a moment, watching as Hawke fought the monster, distracting it from the others as they made their escape. It would be the second time someone sacrificed themselves to the Fade for her and it wasn’t right. No one should have this as their fate. She reached forward to help, to grab Hawke and make their way through together, but something behind her grasped her arm and yanked, sending her flying backwards and through the Fade. The last thing she saw before she fell through, was the woman slashing away at the monster, another brave hero, another friend lost to the chaos of Corypheus’ war.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the hardest chapter I've ever had to write. I struggled with this. 
> 
> I tried to keep my play-through and the story similar, but I couldn't bring myself to kill Hawke in-game. But there are reasons for it in the future, which is why she's now dead. Trust me though, I did not do this lightly. 
> 
> Also, I'm again sorry for the delay in updates. I am going to strive to be more punctual in the future, because if you guys are anything like me, waiting for sporadic updates is just the worst.


	19. Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes handle the aftermath of Adamant in different ways. Amarantha wonders why her gods have turned their backs on her.

Chapter Nineteen: Sorrow

 

Closing the rift was almost as natural as breathing. Amarantha clenched her fist, the anger and rage boiling within her causing enough power to shoot from her hand and seal the rift instantly. The demons around them, and likely everywhere in the fortress dropped to the ground heavily, not moving at all. The soldiers around them cheered, but Amarantha was deaf to the sound. She looked up, eyes blurry with tears as Cullen, Cassandra, and the others ran up to them.

 

Cullen grabbed Amarantha and pulled her into a hug, which she returned with loose arms, despite her relief to see him again. She wiggled out of his embrace and turned to Varric, who was focused on the ground, shoulder trembling as he tried not to weep.

 

“Varric,” she breathed. He looked up, met her own sorrowful gaze with his own, and shook his head.

 

“I can’t,” he said, then turned and rushed off.

 

Amarantha turned back to Cullen, who watched her with grave concern. “Inquisitor,” he asked, worried.

 

“H-Hawke,” she whispered. “Hawke is….”

 

Behind them, Cassandra gasped. “No.”

 

Amarantha nodded. Holding her knuckles to her lips, to try to keep the sob that lingered on the tip of her tongue from escaping. Stroud stepped forward, a slight limp in his step. “The Champion died a hero,” he said, his voice wavering even as he spoke. “With the Nightmare banished, Corypheus has lost his demon army and his Warden mages.”

 

“Yes,” Amarantha said, forcing herself to stand upright and looked at Cullen. “Report, Commander.”

 

He nodded, letting her go and said, “The archdemon took off the moment you came through the Fade,” he said, “The Venatori magister is alive. I thought you might want to deal with him personally.”

 

Anger flooded Amarantha. “Yes,” she said hotly, “I do.”

 

“As for the Wardens,” he continued, noting her tone with concern, “Those who were not corrupted helped us fight.”

 

Another Warden approached. “Warden Stroud is the highest ranking official left in the Wardens,” he said, turning to the man. “What will you have us do.”

 

Amarantha spoke up before Stroud could answer, “You will stay and help us fight,” she declared. “I will not have Hawke’s sacrifice be in vain. You will do whatever you can to help defeat this bastard Corypheus. That is all.”

 

With that she turned, ignoring the protests of the others behind her. She didn’t care if they disapproved. The Inquisition needed allies; they’d come to rescue the Wardens. What better result than to not only take Corypheus’ army from him, but to claim it as her own. It was the least she could do. For Hawke’s sake.

 

\-------------

 

Varric sat at the back of the fortress, head against the stone. Tears fell silently from his face as he stared up to the night sky. Hawke was gone. His friend, his partner….she’d been so much to him. Muse, inspiration, companion and source of all his greatest tales. Now she was but a memory.

 

Sighing heavily, Varric let his head hang, chin to chest, as he fiddled with an arrow from his quiver. Bianca had been discarded a few feet away, but his quiver was at his side, and he spun the arrow between thick fingers before squeezing it hard and snapping the wood in two.

 

Footsteps followed the sharp sound and when Varric looked over, he saw Cassandra standing there, sword and shield discarded elsewhere. She looked smaller without her weapons strapped to her, Varric noted absently. She stood, hands clasped in front of her, looking more like a shy maiden sneaking away to see her beloved than a warrior woman who’d just slain countless demons.

 

“Varric,” she whispered.

 

“Seeker,” he sighed, “I’m not really interested in hearing how sorry you are.”

 

“I-I know,” she said, voice full of uncertainty. “But I….No one should have to mourn alone.”

 

“Oh, really?” He snapped. Cassandra didn’t seem perturbed by his tone.

 

“No,” she said, voice soft and gentle, so unlike her usual tone with him. “I did. It was….May I sit?”

 

Varric shrugged but scooted over, making room for the taller woman to join him. She sat, stretching her legs out in front of her, noticing just how much longer her legs were than Varric’s.

 

“When Amarantha’s clan was killed,” she began slowly, “I sat with her. I washed her hair, as was done to me when I was a girl. It was the one small comfort that I could offer,” she hesitated, then added “A shame there are no tubs around here.”

 

Varric glanced at her, stunned. “Was that a joke, Seeker?”

 

She shrugged. “An attempt at one.”

 

Varric chuckled, but after a moment the shake of his shoulders turned into ones from sobs. He wept, head buried in his hands. “This is why I didn’t want her involved,” Varric cried, “I thought if I could keep her away from this mess things would be okay. But then I g-go and drag her into it anyway, and now she’s dead. Because of me.”

 

Hesitantly, Cassandra wrapped an arm around Varric. She wasn’t used to comforting, but she hated to see this man so broken and lost. “I do not think it was because of you,” she whispered, pulling Varric to her and resting her chin on his head, “I only knew her briefly, but she seemed like a woman who decided her own fate.”

 

Varric sniffed but nodded against her. “Yeah, that’s Hawke.”

 

After a moment, Cassandra shifted, “If you really want to be alone-” she began, but was cut off by a pair of short, strong arms wrapping around her torsos.

 

“No,” he said, “Stay.”

 

Cassandra sighed, trying to sound annoyed though her heart wasn’t in it. “Very well, dwarf,” she said, holding him tighter. “I’ll stay.”

 

He said nothing, merely continued to weep, and Cassandra lifted a hand to run through his hair, half of which had fallen out from the leather strap he used to hold it back. His hair was covered with dirt and grime, sweat from fighting. But she was equally dirty, and probably smelled as well. It hardly mattered. What mattered was that Varric was upset, and for the first time since she’d known the dwarf, she wanted hold him close, shield him from the pain of the world, and assure him that he need not fear. She would protect him. She would protect him the way she hadn’t been able to protect her brother, or her friends. She would not fail this time.

 

“You know,” Varric said, shifting slightly so that his face wasn’t pressed against Cassandra’s chest, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but, I’m glad you’re here, Seeker.”

 

Cassandra hadn’t been with many men. She’d liked one or two in her youth and had even fewer encounters as an adult. She’d been on the edge of falling in love with one such man, but he’d been stolen from her in the explosion. Only a few knew of him, knew of her affection and dwindling uncertainty about whether to accept the proposal he’d offered the week prior. But he was gone. And she’d been left alone. She hadn’t mourned him, not really, because mourning him just made the loss all the more real. She had ignored it, put her misery and rage elsewhere, channeled it to finding answers and placing blame on whoever seemed like a worthy culprit.

 

Her heart still ached for him, she knew, though she’d rarely let herself feel it. But here in Varric’s arms she felt it strongly, the pain renewed and worse than she remembered. She felt her own tears trickle down her face, though she ignored them, and squeezed Varric tighter. He didn’t need to hear of her sorrows, not now. Now he needed someone to comfort him and while she was not the best for the job, she would do it. And perhaps in offering him solace, she would find her own as well.

 

She doubted it, but she could hope.

 

\----------------

 

Bull sat with the Chargers, musing silently over a pint of the strongest ale available. The Fade had been shit; worse than shit. He hadn’t said much to his men about it, though Krem was almost as good at reading the Qunari as Bull was at reading everyone else. He knew Bull was shaken, and so he sat beside his captain, smacked their tankards together, and recounted the time the Chargers had worn chicken feathers as part of a job.

 

After a few more stories of similar hilarity, Dorian sauntered up, his own mug in hand. “Mind if I join you fellows?” He asked with that charming smile. “Everyone else is so gloomy, but you lot seem to have enough good humor to spare.”

 

“Sure thing,” Krem said, “We’re sharing stories. Surely you’ve got one or two that’ll bring a laugh.”

 

Dorian took a seat on the other side of Bull. “Oh, I’ve got stories that will have you positively _rolling_ ,” he said, “But I think I’d like to hear one or two of yours first. I’m grossly outnumbered here.” Then he added with a smirk, “And I’d hate to outdo you all first thing.” Krem smiled and began to tell another tale. Silently, without drawing attention to himself, Dorian deftly nudged Bull with his elbow.

 

After a moment, Bull nudged back.

 

Later, the Chargers began to nod off one by one, exhaustion and ale guiding them into uneasy, drunken rest around the fire. Bull had half a mind to wake them and send them to their tents, but he felt better having them close by. It was irrational, he told himself, but that hardly mattered. The Fade was irrational. All this shit was irrational.

 

He glanced over at Dorian, who had slipped off the bench to sit on the ground, apparently not minding the extra dirt getting on his white robes, which were now covered in more dirt and blood than anything else. He stretched his legs out, then rested his head on the edge of the bench.

 

“So, the Fade,” he said softly.

 

Bull grunted. “Yeah.”

 

“You want to talk about it?”

 

Bull shook his head. “I’d rather do anything _but_ talk about it.”

 

“Well,” Dorian said easily, “I’m more than willing to help in that area, though I think most of these people are disturbed enough. Best not to upset them any more.”

 

At that, Bull couldn’t resist a chuckle. “You’re not too bad, ‘Vint.”

 

“And you’re not so terrible for a Qunari, either.”

 

They fell into silence, Dorian lounging lazily while Bull sat hunkered over, staring into the flame. “Madness,” he whispered. Dorian looked over.

 

“What?”

 

“We saw our fears in there,” Bull said with a disappointed sigh, “All of us. All of you. Your greatest fears, on display. That damn monster fed off them.”

 

Dorian sat up, crossing his legs. “Not sure how I feel about such personal information being put on display,” he remarked, “Rather rude, if you ask me.”

 

“Yeah, no shit.”

 

“So,” Dorian remarked softly after a pregnant pause. “Madness, then?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Why tell me?”

 

Once more Bull shrugged. “I know yours,” he said, “Guess it’s only fair you know mine.”

 

“I’m flattered,” Dorian said dryly, then his features softened. “But let’s be honest: you’re not going mad.”

 

“Oh?” Bull said, “How d’you know?”

 

“Because,” the mage said matter of fact, “The only people that are mad are those that aren’t instantly enamored with me. And we all know that _you_ were instantly enamored.”

 

Bull laughed hard at that, enough so that a couple of the Chargers woke. “For the sake of argument, I’ll simply agree,” he said, then added more softly, “But really, you’re right.”

 

“Of course I am,” he said, chin lifted haughtily, “I’m _always_ right.”  

 

\----------------

 

Amaryllis sat with Solas away from the others who were camped in their area. She’d watched her sister storm off in a rage, and Solas had remarked that he disapproved of the Inquisitor’s decision. She didn’t understand why he was so upset but chose not to question it. She secretly agreed with him anyway, or so she thought, and wondered why Amarantha would give the Wardens a chance when they had done nothing but hurt others and cause that kind, funny woman with the red streak on her nose to sacrifice herself.

 

Being in the Fade had been….strange. Despite the danger, she’d felt a strange connection to it; not quite as if she belonged there, but as if she was welcome. The horror they’d traveled through had been unpleasant, but Amaryllis recalled the time she’d been in the Fade, where she’d seen a glimpse of Haven, and thought that if the Fade could offer such comfort and kindness, that it couldn’t be bad. Even if bad things occupied its space. The world was no different, she reasoned. There were bad men in this world, but the world wasn’t bad.

 

Was it?

 

She glanced at Solas, who sat contemplatively by their own little fire. Summoning her courage, she spoke.

 

‘ _Hahren_?”

 

Solas opened one eye. “Yes?”

 

“You don’t have to worry about dying alone,” she whispered, feeling foolish. “You have my sister. And me. We won’t leave you.”

 

“How do you know that I will not leave you?” He asked cryptically. Amaryllis shook her head, her childlike certainty not allowing for such a notion.

 

“Because no one would _choose_ to be alone,” she reasoned, “Not when you know you’re loved.”

 

“Sometimes one does not have a choice,” Solas replied. “Sometimes one must leave even if one does not want to.”

 

“Are you going to leave?” She asked simply. “Is that why you’re afraid? Because if you leave you won’t be allowed to come back?”

 

“No,” Solas said, resting a hand on the girl’s arm, “I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

 

“But someday?”

 

“We all leave, eventually,” he replied.

 

Amaryllis narrowed her eyes. “You don’t have to,” she said, followed by, “I don’t want you to.”

 

“I am not going to leave any time soon, _da’len_ ,” Solas assured her. “But what of you?” He asked gently. “I saw your fear-”

 

“I’m not afraid,” Amaryllis insisted, “Because I’m _not_ going to lose control.”

 

“There are many things we cannot control,” Solas reasoned, “Do not fear what you cannot change.”

 

“I don’t,” she declared, “I won’t let myself.”

 

“Fear is not _always_ an evil,” Solas said, “Fear teaches courage. Courage without fear is merely empty bravado. If you fear nothing, there is nothing to overcome, and then you will not grow.”

 

Amaryllis considered this, then curled her legs up to rest her chin against her knee. “Maybe I’m a little afraid, then.”

 

“Do not doubt your bravery, even as you are afraid,” Solas said, “You have endured much, and yet you press on. Most men I have encountered do not have half the courage you possess.”

 

“I don’t feel very brave, sometimes,” Amaryllis said with a sniff. “I still dream about my parents.”

 

“I know,” Solas said, scooting closer to the young girl and wrapping his arm around her. “Why don’t you tell me more about them? Your mother sounds positively delightful.”

 

Amaryllis nodded, curled against Solas, and began to tell him stories about her mother and father, and as she spoke it felt like, for the first time in months, that they were right there with her.

 

\--------------------

 

Amarantha sat in silence, seething. She’d found a room in the fortress away from the others, had slammed the door shut and slid against the wall. She had no idea how long she’d been there; she knew she needed to leave, that there was no doubt plenty to do. But she couldn’t bear to move. Her body ached, her hand throbbed, and her heart was so heavy it felt as if it were made of stone. She wiped her eyes with her hand, glaring at the mark as it caught her attention. It was calm now, but the magic still poured from it like mist. She slammed her hand on the stone floor, ignoring the sharp pain, and growled.

 

First Justinia. Then countless others whom she’d never met but carried the weight of their deaths. Then her parents, her clan. Her sister had been orphaned. Now Hawke. She pressed her head against the stone wall, letting the tears fall as she tried to hold back a sob. It cracked out of her anyway, the force of her grief pushing it forward, and she buried her head in her hands, crying, weeping. After so long of pretending, Amarantha could no longer deny that this war was taking its toll on her.

 

And what was worse was that she had nowhere to turn. Certainly there was Cullen and the others, but they were all bound to their own grief. She had no gods to whom she could turn. The Creators had abandoned her long ago. They’d not heard her prayers. And now Andraste. Andraste, whom Amarantha had genuinely begun to believe was with her, forsaking all men to bestow her blessing upon an elf, had forsaken her too.

 

 _No,_ Amarantha thought _, She did not forsake me. She was never there._

 

No gods heard her cries now. No gods heard her anguish, her prayers. She’d wanted to get everyone out of the Fade; _she’d_ taken them there, it was only right that she get them out. And still someone died so that she could carry on. The Inquisition, her position, was built upon a foundation of corpses of better people than her.

 

She sobbed harder, not hearing the sound of the door opening and boots thudding against the stone floor.

“There you are,” a comforting voice said. Amarantha looked up to see Cullen, a worried look on his face. Amarantha suddenly felt selfish for focusing on her own woes when so many others were just as despondent. She wiped her eyes again, hands running over the vallaslin and she froze, fingertips hovering over the mark. Breathing shakily, her nails raked slightly over the skin.

 

“Useless,” she whispered, “Pointless. He’s right. We’re all fools.”

 

Cullen’s hand was on hers in an instant, gently pulling her hand away from her face. “Hey,” he whispered, moving to sit across from her, “What’s this about?”

 

Amarantha shook her head frantically. “I marred my skin for my gods,” she said in a panicked tone, “And for what? They haven’t heard me. They haven’t listened! I keep praying, because I believed them, trusted them! All I’ve received is more and more proof that they don’t care.”

 

Cullen’s nose wrinkled as he tried to think of what to say. He sighed. “I am afraid I don’t know what to tell you,” he said, “But I can understand how your faith must be shaken.”

 

She blinked, and looked at Cullen tearfully. “When you pray to Andraste, does she hear you?”

 

“I like to think so,” Cullen replied.

 

“I prayed to her too,” Amarantha said weakly, tears choking her up. “I thought- I wanted to believe...I _did_ believe… Perhaps I was meant to bridge the gap. The Creators _and_ Andraste had their hand on me. But none of them do….they never did.”

 

“What happened to you in the Fade?” Cullen asked worriedly.

 

At that, Amarantha began to weep openly. Her body wracked with sobs, and Cullen moved to hold her, similar to when she’d learned of her family’s death. She wept against him, clutching at his chest desperately.

 

“I’m not chosen,” she whispered at length, moving to sit away from him, back pressed to the wall. It was stifling being so close even as she wanted him to hold her. “I’m not the Herald of Andraste.”

 

“What do you mean?” Cullen asked, moving to sit beside her against the wall. She fiddled with her hands which rested on her knees.

 

“Everyone thinks I’m the Herald,” she whispered, voice calming even as the tears continued to fall. “That I was pulled through the Fade by Andraste, that she guided me, chose me. She didn’t.” She sniffed, “The Divine sacrificed herself so that I could escape. She’s dead because of me.”

 

“You remember what happened?” He asked, laying a hand over hers softly, allowing her the choice to pull away if she wished. She didn’t.

 

“Yes,” she whispered, “I found my memories there. I wish I hadn’t. I….I’m not what you think I am. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and my actions caused someone else to die.” She took a shuddering breath, “And I’ve done that same thing again. It’s my fault Hawke is dead. I,,,,I’ve caused so much damage since I came here.”

 

“I don’t believe that,” Cullen said soothingly, “My life is much better for having met you. I know others who would say the same.”

 

She laughed, though it was more akin to a choked sob. She turned her head to look at Cullen, eyes studying his own amber ones. “I never expected being the Inquisitor to be easy,” she remarked, “But no one ever said it would be so damn hard.”

 

“They usually don’t,” Cullen agreed wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she leaned against him.

 

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted after a moment. “I’m not the Herald….I….the Creators don’t….” She broke off with a sigh. “Everything is wrong.”

 

“You’re doubting,” Cullen whispered, “And I certainly can understand why. But,” he said, tugging on Amarantha so that she looked up to meet his eyes once more, “If I believe in anything, I believe in _you_. And I will believe _for_ you, if I must. You have helped people; more than you know. War takes lives, senselessly, without regard to whom it might devastate. This isn’t because of you; none of this is. This is Corypheus. Don’t let him fill you with doubt. Don’t let him defeat you now.”

 

Amarantha ran a hand through her hair, taking a few deep breaths as she pondered Cullen’s words. Her faith _was_ shaken; her hope and belief in herself and her gods was crumbled to its very foundation, which laid desolate and cracked from another staggering blow from Corypheus. He’d taken her first true home; he’d been responsible for her clan’s annihilation. He’d tried to kill her and had killed countless innocents in his attempt to get to her. And through all that she’d prevailed. She’d carried on despite the pain and had held her head high, believing that she’d been chosen for this. That she had a purpose.

 

Now she wasn’t so sure.

 

But, divine purpose of not, she had a job to do and she _would_ do it. She would walk out of this room and make sure the Warden’s were all right and ensure that an alliance with them through Stroud would be put to the best of use. She would listen to those who disagreed with her decision and then simply tell them that allies were allies, and that she welcomed any and all who wished to serve the Inquisition. If they didn’t like that, they could serve elsewhere. She was tired of playing games; she was tired of politics and trying to appease nobles who didn’t understand what was truly at stake.

 

But she understood. She understood all too well. And if anyone didn’t, she would kindly point them to the ruins of Haven, the trees in Skyhold that served as markers for the numerous dead. She would show them her sister. She would show them the mark and tell them how it sometimes hurt so much that she wanted to do nothing but scream. She would point to the sky and remind them that the Breach affected everyone.

 

Looking at Cullen, she wiped away her tears and took a deep, shaking breath. Then she was calm.

 

“Corypheus told me at Haven that he saw the throne of the gods and that it was empty,” she remarked softly. “I don’t know now whether I believe him or not, but it doesn’t matter. He will _not_ be seated upon any throne. Not while I’m still alive.”

 

“I will do whatever you need me to do, Amarantha,” Cullen said, “For _you;_ not just the Inquisition.”

 

“Then tell everyone to pack up,” she said as she stood on trembling legs. Cullen stood with her, taking her hand in his. “We’re going back to Skyhold to prepare our next strike,” she said, “Corypheus’ time is at an end."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for the lack of posting in recent weeks, here's another chapter! 
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the story so far. There's a lot more to come and I'm excited to bring it to you!


	20. Solemn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They can leave Adamant behind, but they cannot forget what happened.

Chapter Twenty: Solemn

 

The journey back to Skyhold was slow, silent, and solemn. The troops, while thrilled with their victory, were dealing with the first true loss of men since the fall of Haven. The Inquisition proper was struggling with their own losses, and the demons that had gripped them in the Fade now lurked close by, shadows hovering menacingly, snapping at their ankles and waiting for someone to stumble.

 

Amarantha and Amaryllis rode on the former’s mount, a sweet and gentle horse the color of honey. Cullen rode beside her, back straight and formal even as the ride was uncomfortable. Solas walked behind them, flanked by Bull, Dorian, and Cole. Varric and Cassandra trailed behind a little further, their steps slow and their heads bowed. Vivienne marched alone, prim and head held high. Blackwall and Sera walked quietly next to each other, the Warden uncomfortable and the elf disturbed to the point of silence.

 

Cullen glanced over at Amarantha on occasion, sometimes meeting her eyes in the process. She would offer him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and he would silently try to convey his sympathy, his desire to help, and his concern. They wouldn’t talk here. They couldn’t. Amarantha was shaken, crumbling, and she knew that if she allowed her thoughts to come forward now, she would break down in front of the entirety of their forces, and that would not do. She had a reputation to maintain: she was the leader of these people. She couldn’t break down now even as she wanted to curl up and do nothing but cry and rail against the gods she’d once trusted.

 

But there would be time for that, she reasoned. There would be time to question and wonder and decide what their silence meant. There were more pressing troubles; there was far more to worry about than her belief in gods that clearly didn’t care. She would worry later. For the time being, she had a war to win.

 

The arrival at Skyhold was met with cheers and shouts of joy and triumph. Amarantha smiled as she entered the gates, waving to the people who had remained behind, the victory and praise feeling hollow. At the landing of the steps stood Josephine and Leliana who watched with a calm and professional demeanor as the group disbanded, the soldiers breaking off into small groups to do their duties and hopefully find some rest in their quarters. A few servants came and collected the horses for those that had ridden them, and Amarantha helped her sister slide off the horse before turning to acknowledge the people once more.

 

It had been a victory, despite the costs, and the people were excited. She knew that they expected her to speak, something she truly detested. But it was part of the job, and she was determined to do her job as well as possible. So she pushed back her shoulders and marched up the stairs to where the two other women stood and briefly addressed the crowd. She spoke of the great sacrifice that had been made, managing to only get teary-eyed for a moment, but pressed through and declared that the Inquisition would not cease in their attempt to defeat Corypheus. The people cheered in agreement and with that the Inquisitor turned away, glanced at Leliana and Josephine wearily, and marched up the stairs to the great hall.

 

The others followed to the war room, where Amarantha gave a more detailed report to the ambassador and spymaster, then listened as they informed her of what had happened in the weeks they’d been away.

 

“The Empress Celene is holding a ball,” Leliana explained in her calm and soothing voice, “It is to masque the peace talks she will be having to end the civil war that has plagued Orlais for too long.”

 

Amarantha glanced to Vivienne, “Didn’t you mention a plot against Celene when we recruited the  Templars?”

 

“Yes,” the mage replied, “And that demon pet of yours mentioned that a ‘he’ wanted the Empress dead.”

 

“It would be the perfect opportunity to strike,” Josephine mused, “And we know Corypheus is growing desperate. He will surely send someone to attend this ball. Celene will be in danger.”

 

“When is the ball?” Amarantha asked.

 

“In six weeks’ time,” Leliana answered.

 

Amarantha glanced to Josephine, “Get us in. We’ll take care of it.”

 

“I am already in the process of acquiring invitations, Inquisitor,” Josephine answered, “I will keep you up to date on any developments on the matter.”

 

“Very good,” Amarantha said, “Is there anything else?”

 

Several heads shook to indicate that there was nothing else that needed to be addressed and Amarantha felt a slight weight lift. “Good,” she said, “Then I am going to rest. Unless Corypheus himself enters our gates, I do not want to be disturbed.”

 

With that, she turned and walked out of the room, shoulders pushed back too far and head held too high to be genuine. Josephine glanced at Cullen. She’d read the reports, and while everyone had provided details about what had happened in the Fade, it was hard for the ambassador to understand. Cullen shook his head, speaking softly to the group.

 

“She’s taking it hard,” he explained, “Hawke’s….death….what she saw in the Fade. It’s done some great damage.”

 

“Is there anything we can do?” Josie asked, ready to jump to the task. Cullen shrugged helplessly, his mouth curling into a concerned scowl.

 

“I really don’t know,” he said, “I’ve never seen her like this. Not even when her clan-” He stopped short, feeling guilty for speaking about her like this when she wasn’t present. “Just give her some space for today. In fact, we all could probably use some time to recover.”

\----------------

 

Amaryllis hadn’t attended the meeting. She knew she probably should have, now that she was part of the Inquisition and had participated in a battle and gone into the Fade, but….she needed to be alone. She didn’t _want_ to be alone, but she didn’t know what else to do. She wasn’t interested in another of Solas’ lectures, even as he comforted with stories and listened to her as if she were his equal. She didn’t want to see her sister even as she _did_. She didn’t know how to talk to Amarantha about this. She didn’t know how to talk about it at all. Being in the Fade had terrified her, even as it had been…..familiar. She liked it, if she looked past all the demons and recovered memories and the horrifying face that belonged to Corypheus. She’d liked the Fade. She hadn’t been afraid of it exactly. But the fact that that Nightmare demon had known her so well, had fed on her fears, _relished_ them…..

 

She was seated under the willow tree in the garden that served as a marker for her fallen clan. It probably was disrespectful to sit against the still thin trunk of the tree, but it was the only way she could be close to her family now: close to her mother and father, who had both been grounded and sensible, unlike her grandmother who had always had her head in the clouds. She loved her grandmother but right now she needed sensibility. She needed logic to explain what was going on, and even as she tried to analyze it, she found herself more and more lost.

 

Curled up against the tree, she reflected on the events of Adamant, of what she’d seen on the marker of Solas, Bull, Dorian, her sister. Everyone had a fear, everyone was afraid. She scowled. She didn’t like being afraid. She didn’t like not being in control of her fears.

 

“ _Do not be afraid of what you cannot control,”_ Solas had told her. Amarantha scoffed.

 

“I’m not afraid,” she said out loud, “I’m not.”

 

“Talking to trees now?”

 

Amaryllis looked over her shoulder to see Amarantha standing there looking weary and unhappy. Her shoulders drooped and her eyes were bloodshot. Not waiting for an invitation, the Inquisitor took a seat next to her sister, leaning her back against the tree trunk as well.

 

“There’s a human saying,” she murmured, “‘Great minds think alike’.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“We both thought the best place to be right now was here.”

 

Amaryllis took a deep breath. “Oh.”

 

The sister sat for a long time in silence, watching others pass by as they sat covered by the dropping branches of the willow tree. Amarantha picked at the branch that hung in her face while Amaryllis stared at her hands, lost in a thought that was silent but contemplative.

 

“Sister,” Amaryllis said softly, childlike. Amarantha tilted her head to the side, glancing over at her sister lazily.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I-” she paused. What was she going to say? There were so many things, but she didn’t know where to begin. Instead she scooted over and curled up against her sister. It was a warm day, but the elder elf wrapped herself around her sibling and held her tight for a long while, her nose resting on the girl’s head.

 

“I know,” Amarantha said, “I know.”

 

“Can I tell you something?” Amaryllis whispered. Amarantha squeezed the girl gently, silently indicating that she could. “I….tried to pray this morning. I couldn’t find the words.”

 

“I can’t either,” Amarantha whispered after a moment. Amaryllis glanced up.

 

“You can’t?”

 

“No,” she said simply.  She didn’t elaborate, didn’t give a reason why and somehow it was better that way. It was almost a relief to know that her sister struggled.She knew that people viewed her sister as a religious figure - The Herald of Andraste- but she hadn’t really thought that her own sister, her certain and steadfast sister, would feel the same doubt that rattled her own bones. It was a comfort, albeit a strange one, to know that someone of such significance could harbor the same uncertainty. Amaryllis didn’t understand why the gods would turn their backs on them, but at least she wasn’t alone in her rejection.  

 

“Do you think the words will come back?”

 

Amarantha pressed a kiss to her sister’s head. “I don’t know.”

 

“I want them to. Do you?”

 

Amarantha remained silent, which told Amaryllis all that she needed to know. Holding her sister closer, she squeezed her eyes shut and wondered just what they had done wrong to make the gods turn away.

 

\------------------------

 

Over the course of the next several days, things began to fall back into the normal routine. Amarantha would not be traveling extensively before the ball held by the Empress to give her time to prepare of the social demands that would be upon her. She fell into her work with vigor, studying and practicing etiquette, while performing her regular duties as well.

 

It was good, to be back at Skyhold, to be surrounded by walls that were familiar and safe; to be able to keep to a schedule. It amazed Amarantha sometimes how acclimated she’d become to the ways of men. It was disheartening that she had lost so much from the death of her clan, but she had more daunting things to worry about than whether the history and culture was kept. She knew it would be: she also knew she did not care whether the stories of the gods were carried on. Dread Wolf take them, for all she cared.

 

Those thoughts swirled in her mind like the Breach had in the sky as she made her way to the tavern. Despite the victory, it was relatively quiet inside, the solemnness of loss permeating the air as heavily as the scent of smoke and ale. Bull sat with Sera, Dorian, and the Chargers in their corner, swapping tales and sharing a meal. Blackwall sat in another corner, an untouched mug before him as he whittled a small wooden block.

 

Amarantha made her way up the stairs to the second level of the tavern, where people often went for quieter, more intimate conversation. It was just as quiet here as it was below. There were fewer people on this level and that was exactly what Amarantha needed. She walked past a few empty tables trying to choose the right one when she saw the shadowy figure of Varric in the corner, a couple candles burning low and his head bowed over a piece of paper. He was writing, as usual, but his hand was slow and shaky. The words weren’t coming.

 

She hadn’t spoken to Varric since they fell out of the Fade; how could she? She felt guilt over Hawke, and facing Varric had seemed impossible. But seeing him now, alone and unaware of the audience he had to his suffering, she knew they could not go on like this. She stepped forward, her steps quiet on the hard floor. Varric didn’t notice her until she was upon him, and when he looked up he didn’t seem surprised, or annoyed, or even glum. He simply looked weary.

 

“May I?” She asked, gesturing to the bench across from him. Varric nodded, shifted with a groan, and Amarantha took a seat. Her arms crossed on the table in front of her, and she looked around for a long moment; anywhere to avoid meeting his eyes.

 

“How you doin’, Petal?” Varric said first. Amarantha’s eyes snapped to his.

 

“Everything is shit,” she remarked. “You?”

 

“Pretty much in agreement with you,” Varric said dryly, the usual flair in his voice missing. “Everything is shit.”

 

They fell into an uneasy silence, neither certain what to say next. Finally she huffed a sigh and stretched her hands out before her, not quite touching Varric’s. “I’m so sorry, Varric..”

 

The dwarf scoffed and looked away. “It’s not your-”

 

“But it is.”

 

Varric glanced curiously at the elf, who looked absolutely stricken. “If I hadn’t sent us into the Fade none of this would have happened. Hawke and Stroud kept arguing about who should stay and I should have demanded that neither of them do it. _I_ should have done it. But I didn’t stop them, didn’t do anything more to save her. I can’t help but understand why you didn’t tell Cassandra about her before. Everything she’s done, and this is her payment.”

 

“Hey,” Varric said, his voice sharp but not hurtful, “If you hadn’t thrown us into the Fade, we’d all be dead. At any rate, it’s my fault.”

 

“How is any of this your fault, Varric? You tried to protect your friend.”

 

Varric huffed. “If Bartrand and I hadn’t found the red lyrium, if we had just, I don’t know, left it or destroyed it….maybe none of this would have happened.”

 

“Corypheus is bent on seeing his plan through,” Amarantha reasoned softly, “I think he would have pursued it with or without red lyrium.”

 

“Well it certainly didn’t _hurt_ his progress,” Varric sighed. “But, enough of that. I….I don’t do this whole….emotional thing that well. I-I’d rather talk about Hawke. Have I ever told you about the time Hawke was on a Merchant Guild’s hit list?”

 

“I don’t believe so.”

 

“I should. It’s a doozy.”

 

“I’m all ears, Varric.”

 

He glanced up and gave her a weak grin, lifting a hand to point to his own ears. “Wording, Petal.”  

 

Rolling her eyes, Amarantha leaned forward, resting her head on the table. “Ha ha.”

 

Varric didn’t start the story, however, instead looking over Amarantha’s shoulder with a look of surprise and warmth. Turning, the elf was equally surprised to find Cassandra there, two mugs in her hand. She looked uncertain, almost bashful, and took a step back. “I thought you might want something to drink,” she said softly, glancing at one of the mugs, “But you seem to be busy-”

 

“Nonsense, Seeker,” Varric said, his voice still heavy but some of the bitterness and sorrow had slipped away, “I was just telling our illustrious leader a tale about-” His voice caught, but he recovered instantly, “I was telling a tale about Hawke. If you’re interested.”

 

“I enjoy hearing about her,” Cassandra admitted carefully, “She was an incredible woman, if your tales are anything to go by.”

 

“I exaggerate a lot of things, but never Hawke,” Varric said, motioning for the Seeker to sit. Cassandra slid one mug across the table to Varric as she sat beside the Inquisitor, then offered the other mug to her. Amarantha declined with a wave of her hand, and the two women sat in silence as Varric told them about Hawke, laughing through their sorrow as Varric wove words together to bring the Champion back to life once more, if only for a few moments.  

 

When his tale finished, it was with tears in his eyes and tremble of his shoulders. Hawke had been his dearest friend and the loss weighed heavily. His shivered and cursed, bowing his head to stare at the chipped wood of the table. Under his gaze someone had carved the initials _B+L_ and Varric traced the letters with his fingers absently as he collected himself. His movement stilled however, when Amarantha’s hand came to rest over his. A moment later, the gloved hand of Cassandra found her way over theirs as well.

 

Pausing only for a moment, Varric lifted his other hand and let it rest over Cassandra's. They all looked at each other then, having previously moved without making eye contact. The women were just as teary eyed as Varric, and it was a strange comfort to know that he didn’t have to mourn alone. They would never know Hawke as he did, and the loss they felt would never be quite profound, but they’d both experienced their own share of death in this shit-fest of a war. If they could survive, two of the strongest women he knew- then he could too.

 

“Tell us another one, Varric,” Cassandra requested. It was strange to hear a request from her lips and not a demand, and Varric couldn’t help but to squeeze her hand.

 

“Happily, Seeker.”

 

\---------------

 

When Amarantha finally left the tavern it was far too late. Varric and Cassandra had gone their separate ways as well, all of them feeling a little lighter after their private vigil for the Champion. A proper service would be held for those lost at Adamant, but that would not be for a few more days. Families of soldiers were to be told first, and arrangements to have the bodies transported were still in progress. Josephine was handling it all with her usual proficient and tireless grace. Amarantha marveled at the young woman at times; she had an ability to that was unmatched in Thedas. The Inquisition could not have had a better ambassador on their side.

 

Wandering aimlessly, Amarantha considered making her way to Cullen’s office for a quick visit, but thought against it. It was late and not even the Commander would be up at such an indecent hour working. No, the man was too sensible for that. With a sigh, she made the decision to merely retire to her chambers when a questioning voice caught her attention.

 

“Amarantha?”

 

Turning, she was surprised and delighted to see Cullen walking toward her. He was not in his armor, which was a shock in itself, but it was even more concerning that even in the dim light of the stray lanterns and torches hanging throughout the area that she could see just how _horrible_ he looked.

 

“Cullen?” She said, stepping forward, reaching out to touch his face. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

 

He nodded, reaching up to cover her hand with his. “I’m fine,” he said with effort. “Headache. I’ve been trying to sleep but I’m restless. I was going to go pray.”

 

“I’m sorry you’re unwell,” she said, feeling useless. “Do you get them often?”

 

“Yes. But I’ll manage.” He gave her a reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can you not sleep either?”

 

She knew he was alluding to the Fade and the events that had taken place. They haunted her sure enough, but her dreams had always been strange and unnerving. Now instead of wolves, she saw demons. Sometimes they didn’t seem much different.

 

“No,” she said with a shake of her head, “I was with Varric and Cassandra. Recounting stories of….”

 

“Her loss is a great one,” Cullen said, his eyes shut tight. He was pained, even as he tried not to let it show. “How is Varric?”

 

“He’s not taking it well. He’s pretending to. But he’s not.”

 

“Sounds like Varric.”

 

Amarantha hummed in response. Her fingers twitched against Cullen’s cheek, and he squeezed her hand comfortingly. “And you?” He asked, “I know what you learned hasn’t been easy to bear.”

 

“I’m….coping,” Amarantha said carefully, “I feel lost. Directionless.”

 

“If there’s anything I can do-”

 

“Take care of yourself tonight,” she said softly, “I’m fine. Rather, I _will_ be fine. I’m more concerned about you.”

 

“I’ll be alright,” Cullen replied. “Why don’t you go get some rest?”

 

“Only if you promise to do the same,” she replied.

 

Chuckling, Cullen bent his head down to touch his forehead to Amarantha’s. “I will,” he said, “You have my word.”

 

She kissed him then, ran her fingers over the stubble of his cheeks, and with a final, whispered ‘good night’ she retreated to her chambers. She entered quietly, expecting her sister to be fast asleep by now. When she reached the top of the stairs she found that her sister was _not_ asleep, but was sitting at the oak desk in the corner of the room, staring at the journal she’d previously showed her sister.

 

“What are you doing up?” Amarantha said curiously. She would not chide her sister for being awake, not when it seemed half of Skyhold was up as well, restless from the events of Adamant. There would no doubt be many sleepless nights for many people who experienced the horrors of that battle. Her sister was certainly no exception.

 

“Trying to open this stupid thing,” he sister huffed in annoyance. “I’ve tried pulling it. I’ve tried using magic. I even thought about asked _hehran_ Solas for help, but I want to figure it out on my own.”

 

“Why the sudden urge to get it open?” Amarantha said, leaning against the desk, half sitting half standing.

 

“It’s better than sleeping,” the girl said simply, “Besides, aren’t you curious about what’s inside?”

 

Amarantha shrugged. “I’ve not thought much about it,” she confessed, “But I suppose I do wonder.”

 

Amaryllis tugged on the seal again. “What could Mamae want hidden so much that she made an unopenable book?”

 

“I don’t know,” Amarantha said helplessly, “But it can wait until tomorrow.” She stood and slipped around the desk, letting her hands fall to her sister’s shoulders. “Come,” she said, “Like it or not, you need to sleep.”

 

“I already tried sleeping,” Amaryllis grumbled even as she let her sister pull her from her seat, “It didn’t work.”

 

“Well let’s try again,” the elder sister suggested, guiding the younger one toward the large bed in the center of the room. Amaryllis crawled in without complaint, watching as her sister changed from her tunic and pants into a nightgown. Stopping long enough to braid her hand in a messy plait, Amarantha finally crawled into bed beside her sister, who curled into her instantly.

 

“Will you sing?” Amaryllis asked softly, “Like Grandmamae did?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Snuggled together in her bed, Amarantha softly sang to her sister, a calming lullaby that had been sung every night in their childhoods. The words filled the silence of the room, calling back to a time when the girls had little cares in the world. With the peace that the words of their kin brought, the two fell asleep, Amaryllis slipping into the Fade, while Amarantha dreamed once more, her mind filled with the song of her grandmother, the image of Hawke, and the howling of wolves.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're still enjoying this series. I know I am. 
> 
> Thank you for your kudos, views, and comments. I am always very grateful to hear from you.


	21. Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't shoot the messenger.

Chapter Twenty-One: Messenger 

 

The war room was too bright. The stained-glass windows trickled in light in a vast array of blues, yellows, and reds. The colors floated like feathers in the air, brushing across cheeks and hair, coloring the map of Thedas in its bright hues. While beautiful, the colors were nothing but a painful distraction this morning, and Amarantha held a thin hand to her eyes to block out some of the persistent flurries of color. 

 

Cullen didn’t seem to be fairing much better than herself, though he looked considerably better than he did the night before. His headache was gone if his actions were any indicator, but he still looked tired. Everyone around the table looked drained in one form on another, and not just from a sleepless night. 

 

Cassandra was slightly hungover, though she hid it well with her usual blunt shortness. Leliana seemed distracted - a trait very unlike the spymaster. Josephine was the only one who seemed to be behaving normally, but even her words had a slight twinge of exhaustion to them that only someone equally drained would be able to notice. She hid it well, but it was clear that the war was taking its toll on the Inquisition. 

 

They discussed the triumph at Adamant, though it hardly seemed as such from where Amarantha stood. While everyone stood behind her decision, she knew that not everyone agreed with her choice to have the Wardens serve the Inquisition. She’d not argued, merely said that they deserved a chance to fight and that she was glad to have not only stopped Corypheus from taking an army but to take it for the Inquisition. She offered no further explanation, no justification, and left no room for argument. The Wardens would help. 

 

Finally the meeting ended. Cassandra made a hasty exit, as did Josephine who had the excuse of letters to write. Cullen remained a moment, but when Leliana requested to speak to the Inquisitor privately, he slipped out as well. Alone, Amarantha looked at Leliana, who seemed almost nervous. “Inquisitor-” she began, then stopped and sighed. “Amarantha.” 

 

“What’s the matter, Leliana?” The elf said, moving to lean on the table next to where Leliana stood, hands clasped behind her back, tall and rigid as ever. 

 

“I read your report again,” she said softly, “I was not going to ask, but I cannot stop thinking it.” 

 

“You can ask me anything, Leliana.” 

 

Leliana looked away, and when her eyes returned to Amarantha’s gaze, she looked more like a lost little girl than the esteemed spy master. “What was she like? The Divine?” 

 

Amarantha hadn’t known the woman prior, not like Leliana had, but still the Divine had been nothing but gentle, kind, and brave. “She was lovely,” Amarantha said after a moment of consideration. Indeed, despite the age and wear, the Divine had been a beautiful woman. The spirit that had captured her essence had displayed that beauty proudly, showing the woman’s kind heart and making her seem warm and comforting. Rather like her grandmother. “She seemed calm. At peace. She helped us the entire way through the Fade.” 

 

Leliana’s smile was soft, sad. “That sounds like her.” 

 

“She...she actually wanted me to give you a message,” Amarantha said carefully, “I don’t know what it means, but I suspect you will.” 

 

That caught Leliana’s attention. “What did she say?” 

 

“She said,” Amarantha cleared her throat, “I’m sorry; I failed you too.” 

 

The spymaster’s face fell. “No,” she said, shaking her head, “No, she never failed me. How could she say that? Did she say anything else?” 

 

“No,” Amarantha shook her head, “That was the last thing she said. She seemed desperate for me to tell you.” 

 

“She never failed me,” Leliana repeated, “If anything I failed her.” 

 

“I don’t think she saw it that way,” Amarantha said gently, resting a hand on Leliana’s arm, “I don’t know the relationship you had with her, but that’s what she wanted you to know.” 

 

The spymaster was silent for a long moment, then she took a breath and glanced to Amarantha. “Thank you for telling me,” she said at length, “I must meditate on this. We will speak later.” 

 

“Of course,” Amarantha said softly, letting her hand slide from Leliana’s arm. The spymaster stepped away toward the door, pausing when she reached the frame. 

 

“I am not surprised,” she said softly, “That she saved you. She loved helping people.” 

 

“I owe her my life,” Amarantha agreed. And she did. The Divine had allowed herself to be taken so that Amarantha might come through. She felt unworthy of such a kindness, and it was one more name on the list of people for whom Amarantha fought for. And when she met Corypheus once again, she would make certain he remembered the name of every precious soul he’d taken in his quest for power. 

 

“We all do,” Leliana said. And then she was gone. 

 

Amarantha glanced down at the table where the map lay with numerous figures spread across it, displaying where Inquisition armies were stationed and where the next point of attack lay for Corypheus. The ball at the Winter Palace. Amarantha resisted a cringe. She had to admit that while it was a nice break from the usual fighting and hardship, she wasn’t particularly fond of learning formal etiquette. Shrugging it off as the inevitable cost of war she exited the room. She waved to Josephine who called out a desire to meet later on for ‘unofficial business’ which had become her code for wanting a night away from writing letters, and Amarantha smiled as she promised to return later that evening. 

 

Entering the main hall, Amarantha only managed a few steps toward her chambers before she was stopped by a voice calling out to her.  _ It’s always something _ , she thought to herself, taking a moment to compose a smile and turning to greet whoever had called upon her. It was Mother Giselle, who looked concerned and distraught. Amarantha pulled her aside, away from the prying ears of visiting dignitaries. She explained her upset to the Inquisitor: a letter from the head of House Pavus - Dorian’s father. 

 

Amarantha stared at the letter incredulously. “He wants to meet Dorian. But he won’t actually make the journey to see his son.” 

 

“You must understand, Inquisitor,” Giselle insisted gently, “The relationship between father and son is strained. He does not think Dorian will agree to a meeting if he knows its purpose. He wants to speak to his son, and he thinks I can help. However, the mage does not like me, and so I have come to you for help.” 

 

“Mother,” Amarantha said with as much patience as she could, “If you think for one moment I am going to  _ lie _ to one of my friends-” 

 

“I feared you would say that, Inquisitor,” Giselle said, “But I must beseech you on this. Think of what is best for Dorian. Surely you understand the importance of being on good terms with family.” 

 

Amarantha blinked, eyes snapping up to meet Giselle’s hotly. Her hand clenched, wrinkling the edge of the letter and her eyes narrowed. “Thank you for the reminder,  _ Mother _ ,” she hissed the word, “I will speak to Dorian about the matter, and  _ he  _ will decide for himself what is best for him.” 

 

Having no patience for what Giselle was implying, Amarantha turned on her heel and marched toward the library where Dorian no doubt would be, arranging and organizing books while sassing anyone who tried to take anything from the collection. When she reached him he was speaking with Cullen, who stopped mid-sentence at the sight of the Inquisitor. Dorian glanced behind him, eyes glistening in mischievous delight when he saw the elf, then glanced back at Cullen. 

 

“Oh dear, it looks like our little secret has been discovered,” he said, throwing an arm around the commander dramatically. “I swear, Inquisitor, it was not  _ my  _ idea. But who could possibly resist his charm?” 

 

Cullen flushed and tried to step away from the mage, who only held fast. Amarantha laughed, despite her frustration. “I certainly can’t blame you, Dorian, Our commander is rather charming.” Cullen’s flush ran deeper, but this time he managed to slip out of Dorian's grasp. 

 

“I was just-” he began. Amarantha held up a hand to silence him. 

 

“Cullen,” she said dryly. “I’m teasing.” 

 

“Oh,” he said, an arm lifting to rub at the back of his neck. “All right.” He hesitated a moment, then asked softly, “Are you alright?” 

 

“I am,” she insisted, “Are you?” She stressed, giving him a look that demanded he be honest with her. He cleared his throat and nodded. 

 

“I’m better,” he said, “Perhaps still a little tired is all.” 

 

“Why don’t I come see you when I’m finished here. Perhaps we can take a break?” 

 

Ignoring the teasing noises Dorian was making behind them, Cullen nodded. “I would like that.” He hesitated a moment, then pressed a kiss to her cheek, then left the library, leaving the elf and mage alone. Dorian crossed his arms and glanced at the Inquisitor with a raised brow. 

 

“He’s too easy to rile up.” 

 

“And Bull is having a bad influence on you.” 

 

The mage blanched at that, but then instantly composed himself, turning away to pick at one of the books in the stack he was arranging. “You wanted to talk about something? Perhaps I can give you some advice on how to woo the Commander.”

 

“I’m perfectly adept at wooing the Commander,” she said with an arched brow and batting playfully at Dorian’s back. “You keep away.” 

 

Dorian made a face. “He’s not my type, I’m afraid.” 

 

“You’re right,” Amarantha agreed, “He’s not nearly tall enough. And he has the distinct lack of horns.” 

 

Dorian threw an arm around the elf, steering her toward the alcove that he had claimed as his own. “You are a wicked little thing,” he said, “Though I’m certain that a  _ horny _ Cullen is more of a benefit to  _ you _ than to me.” 

 

Amarantha’s eyes widened. “On that note.” She threw out her hand to him. “A letter came.” 

 

“Ooh, a letter?” Dorian teased, “Is it a naughty letter?” 

 

“It’s….from from your father.” 

 

Amarantha could see the distaste come over him in an instant. His body tensed, his shoulders huddled, and his head dropped slightly. He glanced down at the paper, then reached out and took it from Amarantha, slowly, as if it might burn him. He turned away to read it, his stance growing more rigid with each line. Finally, he turned back, the already wrinkled page crinkled in his fists. 

 

“You cannot be serious!” He hissed. “You must be joking!” 

 

“I wish I were. I was also asked  _ not _ to give it to you.” 

 

“Well thankfully you had the sense to disregard that advice,” Dorian huffed, before lifting the letter once more, “ _ ‘I know my son.’ _ Ha! Knows me indeed. That man doesn’t know shit about me!” He wadded the letter up into a ball and incinerated it in an instant. “I’ve a mind to go to this inn and see what all the fuss is about. Who knows? Maybe this retainer he’s sending on his behalf will try to knock me out and  _ drag _ me back home! Wouldn’t that be just hilarious!” 

 

“You don’t have to go, Dorian,” Amarantha said softly, aware that others in the area were starting to stare, “Only if  _ you _ want to.” 

 

‘Oh, I want to,” he snapped, “If only to put an end to this foolishness once and for all.” 

 

“Very well, then,” Amarantha said, “I’ll go with you.”

 

Dorian’s indignation tempered. “What?” 

 

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Amarantha said matter of fact, “I’m not sending one of the most valuable members of my team to meet an untrustworthy man alone. So, when do we leave?” 

 

“Don’t you have to study how to be a proper lady?” Dorian said, stunned by her offer. Amarantha shrugged. 

 

“I’m Dalish. I can master the Game and people will still find me wanting. Besides, this is important. Lessons can wait.” 

 

A soft smile slipped across Dorian’s lips. It was small, but there, and genuine. “I’d hate to keep this poor fellow waiting.” 

 

“Tomorrow, then?” 

 

Dorian nodded.  

 

With that, Amarantha slipped out of the room. She’d need to let Josephine know their plans would have to be cut short that night and she’d have to let the others know too. It would be an easy trip as far as travel went, but it was still a couple days away from Skyhold. The inn was in Redcliffe, somewhere she’d never been. Nestled in the north of the Hinterlands, Redcliffe had been the mage headquarters. She’d had the opportunity to travel there once before, to meet with and align with the mages. She’d not taken that opportunity, and while she did not regret it, she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened had she gone there instead? Would it have been easier? Would she have met Cole? How different would things have been? 

 

It was pointless to dwell on such matters, and so Amarantha pushed them aside with the thought that it was too late to change what was done, and that past mistakes would lead to wiser choices in the future. She hoped, at least. Her thoughts occupied her as she walked leisurely toward Cullen’s office, observing the world around her. It was a pleasant day, bright and warm despite the snowy mountains that surrounded them. A gentle breeze brushed through the open air, and Amarantha paused for a moment to enjoy the sensation. It was in the quiet, still moments like this that she adored. So much had happened lately. It seemed she had jumped from one problem to the next, not having any time to simply  _ be _ . She supposed that was the nature of the position she held, and so she reveled in the moment she had now. For just a moment she wasn’t the Inquisitor, there wasn’t a war, and she wasn’t confused and disenchanted at the thought of her gods. She was simply  _ Amarantha _ and for the moment that was enough. 

 

Opening her eyes, she noticed a few people staring at her, though not openly as they might with anyone else and so she moved on, not wanting to explain why she’d stopped suddenly in the middle of the path to bask in the sunlight. She moved onward, taking the long winding way around to reach Cullen. It felt wonderful to be outside, to simply walk around Skyhold. There was no need to run, no need for rapid steps past people to reach the next location to get something else done. She walked. Walking felt like a luxury nowadays, as did so many other simple things. It was yet one more thing to relish in the moment. 

 

Her steps brought her to the battlements and she paused a moment to look over them and down over Skyhold. She watched as soldiers trained, servants carried on tasks, and others walked about, either to their duties or to their quarters for much needed rest. It was a beautiful thing, Amarantha thought, to see so many people working together. Her clan had functioned in much of the same way, but she’d hardly been a leader there. She’d been a young girl, a young woman, who hunted and listened with bated breath as her grandmother told her stories of her life, of the history of their people, and filled her and her sister’s heads with awe and wonder. 

 

Amarantha wondered what her grandmother would think of the world now. 

 

Looking around, her eyes caught sight of Dorian making his way toward the tavern. Probably to get drunk. Or see the Iron Bull. Or both. She smirked at that thought, at how unlikely it was that those two might find solace in each other. But then so had so many others. She had never envisioned herself with a human before, and now she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else. She loved Cullen, she thought idly, the realization soft and warm. She’d always imagined she’d realize she was in love with a jolt. It would be like a lightning flash, striking her hard and sudden, causing a knee-jerk reaction. But it didn’t happen that way. It was gently that the words settled in her heart and her mind, comforting rather than alarming. 

 

She hummed as she walked, eyes sweeping over the area once more. She caught sight of Cassandra sitting at the base of one of the training dummies, eyes glued to a book. Letting her fingers trail over the stone of the wall, Amarantha slipped into Cullen’s office. He looked up almost instantly, his eyes warming and a smile spreading across his features. She smiled back, genuine and welcoming, and they met each other in the middle, the embrace tight and secure. 

 

“Hello, my dear,” Cullen whispered softly, his gloved hands pressing warm against her lower back and shoulders. 

 

“Hello, my dear Commander,” she said, resting her cheek against his chest, allowing that warmth of her revelation to soak in and leave her relaxed. “I’ve come to demand you take a proper break.”

 

“I think I can manage that,” he said, pausing before adding, “It’s good to see you.” No matter how often they saw each other, no matter how many times their paths crossed in a day, he always told her how glad he was to see her. She wondered if it was purposeful, or simply habit. 

 

She felt him smile at that. “And you as well.” She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight. “I’m afraid I have news.” She stepped back slightly and letting her fingers drift upward to trail over the slight stubble on his cheek. 

 

His face fell slightly, “This doesn’t bode well, I imagine,” he said. Shrugging, Amarantha grabbed his hand and led him toward his desk, where she pulled back the chair that he rarely ever used and turned. With hands on his chest, she pushed him gently to sit, which he did without protest. She lowered herself to sit across his legs, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as she pressed her side to his chest and rested her head against his shoulder. 

 

“I’m going to Redcliffe tomorrow,” she said softly, not wanting to disturb the strange and unusual quiet that had taken over the room. It was unusual to have a moment so soft and peaceful like this. She didn’t want to break the spell. 

 

Neither did Cullen, it seemed. “What’s happening in Redcliffe?” He asked just as quietly. 

 

Amarantha lifted his hand, holding it flat in hers. She tugged the glove off, letting it fall to her lap carelessly. She ran her fingers over his knuckles, his palm, feeling the rough, calloused hands of a man who had always been so tender towards her. For a man with war-seasoned hands, Cullen was as gentle a soul as any she’d ever met. 

 

“Dorian’s family has sent someone to meet him. They want to…..talk…..supposedly. I’m not letting him go alone.” 

 

“That’s probably wise,” Cullen agreed, “Why do they not come here?” 

 

Amarantha continued to run her fingers over Cullen’s hand. “They don’t get along, if Dorian’s enraged outburst was any indication. I suspect there could be a trap, but I can’t say for certain.” 

 

“I see” Cullen said in understanding. 

 

“Mmm hmm,” Amarantha hummed, “So I thought I’d go as well. Just for moral support. And backup, if necessary.” 

 

Cullen made an amused sound at that. “He will be in good hands, then,” he said, catching her hand in his, using his thumb to trace over the mark on her palm. It flickered at the sensation, a light and loving tickle, and the elf giggled, resisting the urge to close her fist. 

 

“That tickles,” she said. 

 

“Good,” he answered, “It’s about time it does something other than hurt.” 

 

Turning her head, she nuzzled her forehead against his cheek. “It’s bearable. Mostly.” 

 

“Still,” Cullen said, bringing her palm up to his lips where he pressed a soft kiss. Amarantha’s heart fluttered at the sensation, and she felt herself growing warm with love once more. He lowered their hands to her lap, lacing their fingers together. “I have some business in Ferelden that I need to address,” he started slowly, “Would you mind if I accompanied you tomorrow? I can take care of my business while you and Dorian work things out with his family. Perhaps afterwards we could….have a moment for ourselves?” 

 

“Are we not already having a moment?” She teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Cullen shook his head in amused exasperation. 

 

“We are,” he agreed, “But there’s something I’d like to show you. But only if you wish,” he added hastily. 

 

“I’d love to,” Amarantha whispered. “A moment for just the two of us sounds like a truly wonderful thing.” 

 

“Indeed it does,” Cullen agreed. 

 

“What shall we do until then?” Her hand slipped out of his, lifting to tap playfully at his nose. His hand that was resting on her hip squeezed, and he pressed his forehead to hers. 

 

“I’ve a few ideas,” he murmured, lifting his other hand to lightly grip her chin and guide her closer so that the small gap between them diminished. He kissed her with the same slow tenderness that seemed to define all his touches. He was all about control, keeping things gentle and light, even as his hands gripped her with a possessiveness that seemed to linger under the rigid surface. Amarantha wanted to break through that caution, to see his eyes go dark with desire, to feel him hold her in a way that would leave marks long after they were done. She felt desire, even as she wanted nothing more than to melt in his arms as they were, and the contentedness within her struggled against her want for  _ more _ until she found herself shifting, straddling the commander in his chair, knees pressing against the back as she squeezed her legs tight around him, pushing them closer and causing him to groan even as a sigh slipped from her. 

 

“Cullen,” she breathed, her hands sliding up to curl in his hair, scratching at the nape of his neck lightly. He groaned again, sliding lower in the seat as he pressed one hand to her lower back, pressing her down until she was unable to ignore the hardness that pressed against her center. His mouth covered hers, nipping at her lower lip eagerly. Amarantha caught his lip in her own,and sucked lightly, her tongue tracing over the sensitive flesh, humming in delight as his hips jerked up at the sensation. 

 

“Maker, Amara-” his breath hitched as she pressed against him, and her lips moved away from his own to kiss his cheek, slowing making her way down past his jawline and to his neck. The fur of his pauldron tickled her nose, and she sniffed and laughed, sitting back for a moment to push at the offending material. Cullen blinked dazedly before understanding what she wanted, and they adjusted quickly so that he could pull off the top layer of his armor and throw it on the ground beside him. The moment it was gone he pulled her back to him, their lips crashing together frantically as he ran his hands over her and she squirmed and moved against him. 

 

“We should-” Cullen whispered breathlessly as he placed heated kissed along Amarantha’s neck, “Upstairs…” 

 

“In a minute,” she replied with equal breathlessness, not wanting to move from where she was. Moving away from Cullen, even as it would lead to better things soon after, was the last thing she wanted to do. She was content where she was, even as she burned for what would come if they managed to break away long enough to climb the ladder to his bedroom. 

 

“Won’t last-” he kissed her cheek, then her lips, “In a minute.” 

 

She hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t offer to stand, instead busying herself with kissing him harder, tongue sliding against his own. In response, Cullen’s hands slid up the elf’s sides, thumbs brushing over her breasts lightly. Whereas her understanding of her feelings had been soft and light, the feeling of his hands on her in such a way  _ was _ like lightning. Her mouth fell as her eyes shot open wide as well, and she let out a desperate cry, no louder than a whisper but just as piercing as a shout. Cullen repeated the gesture with a little more pressure, delighted beyond reason when Amarantha’s eyes snapped shut and that same little cry escaped her lips. 

 

“Oh-” 

 

_ Knock! Knock! Knock!  _

 

The elf was out of Cullen’s arms and several feet away before he had time to register that she was even gone. He blinked, the coolness hitting him like a slap to the face and he looked to his right to see her standing, trembling, even as she stared at the door with wide eyes. 

 

“Commander?” A voice on the other side said quizzically. 

 

His head fell back against the back of the chair and he groaned softly. “One moment,” he called out. Turning his head, Amarantha was already backing toward the door, her face flush and her lips swollen. 

 

“It’s always something, isn’t it?” He murmured so only she could hear. Amarantha nodded. 

 

“Inevitably,” she whispered back. Then she winked and slipped out the side door she’d entered that led her to the western battlements. She leaned against the door to slow her breathing and listened as one of Leliana’s messengers entered with a report. Cullen answered him, and for some reason the whole situation just seemed so ridiculous that Amarantha had to slap a hand over her mouth to suppress a laugh, ignoring the look of the few soldiers that stood a few feet away from her on the battlements. 

 

Feeling silly and girlish and slightly wound up, Amarantha wandered down the stairs and aimlessly made her way toward the training grounds, where Cassandra still sat, engrossed in her book. It rested on her knees so that the cover was obscured, but it was clear by the flush on the Seeker’s cheeks that she wasn’t reading verses from the Chantry. 

 

She joined the Seeker on the ground, saying nothing but resting against the base of the neighboring dummy. Cassandra looked up, made a cursory glance over the Inquisitor’s form, then smirked. “How is the Commander?” 

 

“He’s fine. How’s the Knight-Commander?” 

 

Cassandra blanched at the fact that she’d been caught, but after a moment she adjusted her position and huffed. “Fine.” She turned back to her book, purposely ignoring her friend but after a few minutes, she softly began to read aloud, allowing them both to be captivated by the adventures spun by Varric’s hand. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Lord I am sorry for the lack of updates. 
> 
> I've been idle, though! I only have one chapter left to write, and I've been busy going through and rewriting the rest of the chapters, filling in minor plot holes, adding more character development, and fixing some things I wasn't completely happy with. I've got about ten chapters ready to post, so I'm going to do my best to start posting those on a regular basis.


	22. Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A clash of cultures and values sends the Inquisition to the Hinterlands with varying degrees of success.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Misunderstandings

 

The Northern part of the Hinterlands was as lovely as the rest of it. Trees and mountains surrounded the group at every turn, some of the peaks so high that the sun’s rays barely made it over. The air was crisp but pleasant, and the gentle swaying of leaves and grass provided a calming soundtrack to the otherwise silent journey made by the five members of the Inquisition.

Dorian led the pack, his steps a swagger that displayed a confidence Amarantha wasn’t certain he actually felt. Cole and Bull walked behind the mage, the young spirit boy talking excitedly to the Qunari, who stood at a slight distance, but was engaged in the conversation nonetheless.

Amarantha traveled behind them, feet dragging as she walked lazily. She wasn’t reluctant to go by any means, but merely was enjoying the ease at which they traveled. Cullen had parted from them at the Crossroads, but not before telling Amarantha to meet him there when they were finished at Redcliffe.

Dorian seemed to alternate between quick steps and slow, long sauntering moves, equally eager to get this meeting over with while dreading it all the same. Amarantha felt bad for the mage. To have so little love for his family must be no easy thing to deal with. She hoped this meeting produced some answers - a sense of finality so Dorian could forgive or forget his family. He deserved better than sneaky letters sent to Chantry sisters who didn’t know him from any other mage in the Inquisition.

Quickening her steps, Amarantha approached Bull and Cole, squeezing between the two of them to stand in the middle. “Hello,” Cole said happily.

“Hello, Cole,” Amarantha said. The boy smiled, then glanced ahead to where Dorian walked alone. “He’s not happy. But I don’t think he wants me to help.”

“I don’t think any of us can,” Amarantha said softly, “This is something he and his family have to work out. Our being here is a good start though.”

“Sometimes just _being_ is helping,” Cole concluded, “I think I like that.”

Beside her, Bull grunted in agreement. “It is a nice notion, isn’t is?”

Amarantha thought to the group she was with; she thought of Cullen and her sister. Just the thought of them made her heart beat a little quicker, made her feel a little lighter. “Yes,” she agreed, “It really is.”

“You know I can _hear_ you, yes?” Dorian called over his shoulder. “You don’t have to whisper behind my back because you’re afraid I’m going to get my poor little feelings hurt.”

“We’re just giving you space, ‘Vint,” Bull said simply. Dorian slowed his steps to a halt and sighed.

“You know? I don’t think I need space,” he said before quickly adding, “It’s a bit chilly after all.” He allowed the others to catch up to him, then squeezed himself between Amarantha and Bull, throwing his arm around the former’s shoulders. “Shall we?”

She nodded, wrapped her arm around his waist and the other around Cole’s shoulder and began to walk. Bull, not wanting to be left out of the fun, draped his arm around them, crossing both Dorian and Amarantha’s shoulders, and Dorian let his left hand rest against Bull’s back. The foursome walked together, occasionally tripping over themselves as Bull’s steps were quite larger than poor Cole’s, but they laughed jovially, purposefully being extra foolish to alleviate the dread that was piling in Dorian’s stomach.

When at last they reached Redcliffe the group split apart in the spirit of maintaining professionalism. Dorian led the way with Amarantha by his side, and they marched into the town with heads high and purpose in their steps. Many people recognized the Inquisitor instantly and bowed their heads or stepped aside as she passed. She gave silent greetings to the people as she went, feeling bewilderment once more at the notion of being recognized and revered. She had gotten used to her position she realized with a jolt. She was so used to running around making decisions that would affect the world around her that it had stopped being a strange notion and had become normal. But to see people express surprise at her presence, to see them react in such a way reminded her that while all her peers were familiar with her and knew her beyond her role, most of the world did not.

They reached the inn after stopping to ask a local for its location. The young man had stammered a response, hand shaking as he pointed, eyes never once meeting any of theirs. They moved on to the inn and at the door Dorian stopped. Amarantha stepped up to him, glanced back at Bull, then back to the mage. “Do you want to go alone or-”

“You,” he said quietly, “Just you. If you please.” She nodded. Dorian turned back then, his expression once more cocky and confident. “The two of you can wait out here,” he said, “I’d rather not have to explain why I’m here with a Qunari and a spirit. Things are already….messy,” he said, wrinkling his nose. His eyes lingered on Bull for a moment longer, then he turned and with a nod to the Inquisitor they walked inside.

The inn was empty. That was the first thing Amarantha noticed, and it put her on edge. No one, not even servers were present. Dorian’s expression faltered at the silence that greeted them, and he glanced to the elf and shrugged in confusion. She stepped forward, her hand brushing his arm reassuringly as she moved past, and called out a soft, “Hello?”

“Dorian?”

The two glanced to their left, where beyond the serving counter that was stocked with numerous bottles and a few barrels of what looked to be Orlesian ale, stood a man at the edge of the hallway that led to a subset of rooms used for smoking, playing cards, and other general public enjoyments. He was half-shadowed by the dim lighting of the candles, some of which had burnt out. Even from the shadowed distance, Amarantha could see the resemblance. The haughty countenance that was so endearing on Dorian looking unnerving on this man. This wasn’t a messenger at all, Amarantha thought. But it had been a trap. Just not one that either had expected.

“Father.”

The elf glanced between the two men, Dorian’s father looking stoic and resigned, Dorian himself looking like a trapped wild animal, hunched over, teeth bared, and ready to strike. Stepping forward, Amarantha stood between the two men, her back close to Dorian.

“We were expecting a retainer,” she said with a civility she didn’t truly feel.

The man looked at her, blinking as if he hadn’t noticed her until that moment. “You must be the Inquisitor.”

“I am.” Amarantha said, studying the man before stepping back slightly to allow Dorian and his father to see each other clearly. Dorian crossed his arms over his chest, clearly unimpressed.

“The Inquisitor is right. Your letter said something about a retainer. Was that just...what? A ruse to get me here?”

Halward looked disappointed as he stepped forward, allowing the shadows from the hallway to slip off his features and bring him further into the light. “You were told.”

“I was.”

Halward nodded. “I apologize for the deception.” He glanced past his son to Amarantha, “I did not intend for you to become involved, Inquisitor.”

“Of course not,” Dorian said before Amarantha could speak. “Master Pavus couldn’t come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor. What would people think?” Halward looked stricken. Dorian continued. “What exactly is this, Father? An ambush? Kidnapping? Reunion? I’m not particularly interested in any of them.”

Looking down, Halward sighed, then glanced back up to address the Inquisitor once more. “This is how it’s always been.” He sounded so heartbroken, so tired of the fighting. Amarantha hated to see a family at odds, but she knew that things were not what they appeared.

Placing her hands on her hips, she looked at the man as if she were lecturing her sister. “Can you not understand his anger? You lied to get him here. Went behind his back to try to trick him to coming. That is not how family treats one another. Family should be open and honest with each other. Family should be understanding.”

Dorian laughed at that, turning to face Amarantha directly. “Oh, that’s a sweet notion,” he remarked, “One I would perhaps agree with if I hadn’t gone through what that man put me through!” He said, gesturing toward his father. “I’ve only hinted at our disagreement, but perhaps you should know exactly what drove me away from my family.”

“Dorian-” Halward began, but Dorian cut him off.

“I prefer the company of men,” Dorian said simply before gesturing toward his father once more. “He disapproves.”

Amarantha blinked. She thought to the Iron Bull who sat outside the tavern, waiting patiently to be called in to fight some assassin or retainer. She recalled Bull’s not-at-all-subtle remarks about his night spent with Dorian. That was what had caused the divide?

“I-” she stammered, hands falling to her sides, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry. _That’s_ what this is about?”

Huffing out a laugh, Dorian shook his head. “Oh no. That’s not all this is about.”

From the other side of the room Halward shook his head. “Dorian, this display is uncalled for.”

“Oh no,” Dorian said, glancing back to his father, eyes narrowed. “You called for it by luring me here. You can’t even ask your son to talk to you without lying and deceitfulness!”

“I didn’t want it to be this way,” he tried again, once more glancing to Amarantha in hopes of garnering her support. He would not get it.

“I was never what you wanted,” Dorian snapped. He turned to Amarantha, “I was never good enough! I couldn’t live up to the impossible standards you set for me!”

‘I only wanted you to marry into a good family,”

“And you understand why I couldn’t do that!”

“I only wanted what was best for you-”

“You tried to change me!”

Amarantha’s eyes shot up to Halward, who had the decency to look away. Dorian’s body was shaking, shoulders trembling in his anger. Amarantha stepped forward, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Dorian?” He shoved away from her and strode several steps to a nearby table, where his fist connected with the wood. Amarantha threw a warning glance to Halward, then followed the mage, taking his bruised hand in hers.

“That’s why you ran,” she whispered softly to him, watching his face for any sign on response. When he nodded weakly, she let out a long breath. “I can’t understand how you must feel,” she said gently, running her hands over his fist, “But-” she paused and took a breath, hoping that her words were the right thing to say. She almost wished Cole and come inside. But he was learning when it was appropriate to intervene and to stay out of people’s heads. It was up to her at this moment.

“But at least let him talk.”

Dorian’s eyes shot up to meet hers, and for a moment he looked betrayed.

“I’m not asking you to forgive him,” Amarantha whispered, “But we’re at war. And if you leave now, if you leave with things unsaid...then there might be _no chance_ of ever having closure. Never hearing him apologize. Don’t do that to yourself. Let him say what he came to say, and then we’ll go. This can be an end or a beginning, but at least allow yourself to find out.”

In her hand, Dorian’s own tightened. He looked away, brow furrowed in thought, pondering her words. After several long moments he let go of her hand and brushed his through his hair. Turning to his father he said sternly, “You have five minutes.”

The man looked relieved, and stepped closer to his son. Amarantha stepped away. “Shall I give you some privacy?”

Dorian nodded.

“If you need me-” she left the rest unsaid, but tossed a look to Halward that left no doubt as to what she would do to him if he tried anything. With that she turned and slipped out the door, resting her back against the warm wood as it shut, and sighed. Bull and Cole watched her from their spot in the shade, ignoring the strange looks people gave as they passed them. Amarantha moved away from the door to sit under the tree with them and rested her chin in her hands.

“You’re hurt,” Cole said softly, causing Bull to grunt in concern and lean forward, glancing over Amarantha to check for injury.

“Dorian’s father….” She sighed. “Is something else.”

“His _father_ is in there?” Bull snapped, “Why the hell are you out here then?”

“Because they’re _talking,_ ” Amarantha stressed, “And I think they need to do it alone.”

“You don’t like seeing families at odds,” Cole said softly.

“No.”

“You _know_ what his father tried to do to him,” Bull said matter-of-fact, clearly not happy that Dorian had been left alone.

“I do,” Amarantha said, “I wasn’t aware he’d told anyone.”

“He didn’t have to,.” Bull said with a look that told her everything she needed to know. He was Ben-Hassrath - or rather was- and had been able to figure out everything about the man. He knew the hurt Dorian was nursing. Amarantha wondered if that was part of what had drawn the two together.

“Different. Different is bad. I shouldn’t be different. But I _am_. Why is different bad? Why can I not be loved for who I am?”

“Cole,” the other two said warningly. The boy looked up, confused. “Dorian hurts. But he thinks he wants to forgive. He doesn't’ know if he can, though.”

“Forgiveness isn’t easy,” Amarantha said, thinking to her own unforgiveness toward her gods. She was still bitter about all that had happened, and though it was hardly the same, she knew that someday she would have to sit down and decide whether she wanted to make peace with it all.

“Nothing worth having is,” Cole said wisely, and Amarantha leaned her head against the boy’s shoulder, silently acknowledging the truth of his words.

The five minutes that Dorian gave his father melted into ten, then fifteen, then half an hour. By the time an hour had passed, Amarantha started to truly fret and debated on entering the inn once more to make certain everything was alright. Cole hadn’t said anything else regarding Dorian’s feelings, but she had to believe that Cole would have said something if Dorian had felt a sudden burst of pain. But he’d been quiet, playing with blades of grass and braiding them together. Beside her, Bull stretched out, humming a soft tune to help pass the time.

Finally the door opened and Dorian stepped into the sunlight looking weary but content. His eyes were bloodshot, but he made no acknowledgement of anything that had passed within the inn. He merely stepped up to the group, let his hands rest on his hips and said with a smile, “Get your lazy asses up and let’s go! The Inquisitor has a date!”

Neither Bull nor Cole asked Dorian about what had transpired, and so Amarantha took their silence as a cue and so she said nothing and stood. Dorian was already walking away and the others moved to catch up with him. His gait was back to its usual confident stride, and he walked with his head high and arms swinging lightly by his sides. Once they were out of Redcliffe and on the quiet and empty path he slowed and turned to the others who were walking at a slower pace behind him.

“Be a couple of dears and run on ahead,” he said cheerfully, “I’ve got to have a word with our Inquisitor.”

Bull looked like he didn’t want to move, but when Cole bounded on ahead, saying something about collecting flowers, Bull rolled his eye and followed the spirit boy. Once they were a ways ahead, Dorian turned to Amarantha, his expression sober.

“I’m only going to say this once, and I’m going to do it while I’ve got the nerve to do so,” he said. Amarantha winced, wondering if perhaps he might berate her for what she’d said to him in the inn. But instead he offered her a half smile and said, “Thank you. I...I don’t know if I can ever forgive my father, but….you were right to tell me to listen. It hurts. It will always hurt, I think, what he wanted to do to me, but….”

“What exactly did he want to do?”

“He wanted to use blood magic to alter my mind. Make me ‘normal’.”

Amarantha’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Dorian. I had no idea-”

“Of course you didn’t,” he said, “And you wouldn’t have known. It’s not something we talk about. Or, it wasn’t. But he….apologized. I….that means something, though I don’t quite know what. But I think what I _did_ get out of all this is that- and forgive me for being positively mushy and pathetic with all of this but- I think of you as a friend, Amarantha. I have few friends. I didn’t think I’d find any with the Inquisition.” Here his eyes traveled away to where Bull stood in the distance, laughing as Cole placed a crown of flowers between his horns. “But I did. And if that’s the only understanding that comes from this whole ridiculous endeavor, then I shall consider myself a lucky man.”

He turned to face her once more, only to find himself with an armful of petite elf. She held him tight, her arms draped around his shoulders as she squeezed him to her. Unable to help himself, Dorian laughed, and the sound was genuine and delightful. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her off the ground and spun her in a few circles before setting her back on the ground.

“Now, now,” he said playfully, once more the Dorian she knew and cherished, “Let’s not get emotional. Emotions are unpleasant things to have. They ruin all the fun.”

“All right, Dorian,” Amarantha said through a giggle, “No more emotions.”

“Excellent,” he said as he turned them toward the other and began to lead her back to the group, arm around her waist tightly, “I’ve had quite enough of them today.”

\------------------------

When they reached the Crossroads it was nearing dusk. Dorian nonchalantly dragged Bull with him to one of the camps where there was ale and some ram stew heating over a fire, and Cole disappeared with a gleam in his eye, leaving Amarantha to her own devices. They would all head back to Skyhold the next day, but until then they were free to do as they wished.

Moving to the main camp, Amarantha checked with one of Leliana’s agents to see if Cullen had arrived back yet. He hadn’t, and so she wandered through the camp, speaking with refugees and soldiers. After a while she played a quick game of ‘keep away from the Inquisitor’ with some children, and when she finally was winded she declared herself the loser and let the children tackle her to the ground where they bounced on and around her, shouting their victory at not being caught.

Once she was released from their clutches she wandered to the vendors who were beginning to put away their wares for the night. She browsed and spoke idly with them, stopping at one vendor who sold clothing and novelties. She spoke to the young woman who explained that her young daughters had begun stringing beads together and they had become quite popular amongst the young girls in the area. Amarantha observed the small bracelets, admiring their simple beauty when her eyes focused on a green and purple bracelet, both colors bright and cheerful, the beads alternating between long cylindrical shapes and shorter, more square like beads. Sliding the bracelet off the branch, Amarantha asked how much the trinket was. The woman seemed shocked that the Inquisitor would be interested in her wares and so she stammered out the price, gaping when Amarantha gave her extra.

“My sister will love this,” she told the woman who slowly pocketed the money, as if afraid that by taking the Inquisitor’s money she had done something wrong. “Tell your girls they did an excellent job.”

“O-of course, Your Worship.”

With a nod, she pocketed the bracelet and moved on, speaking to more people until at last she saw Cullen walking toward the encampment. She smiled at the sight of him, quickly ran her hands through her hair to smooth it down, and moved to greet him.

His own expression brightened at the sight of her, but he stopped short of reaching out to her. “Inquisitor,” he said, remaining professional.

She couldn’t help that her expression positively radiated delight at seeing him. “Commander.”

His hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck. “I took a bit longer than I’d intended,” he said by way of apology, “But if you don’t mind-”

“Not at all,” Amarantha said, “I believe you had something to show me?”

“Yes,” Cullen said, gesturing toward the path to the south, “It should only take us about an hour or so. Come.”

They retrieved two horses that had been provided by Master Dennet and rode at a leisurely pace toward Cullen’s destination, ignoring the suggestive calls that came from Bull and Dorian as they left the camp.  
It was no secret that the Inquisitor and the Commander were together at this point; word had gotten around quickly, rumors spreading almost as quickly as their first kiss had happened. Despite their efforts to be discreet, they were the worst kept secret in the Inquisition. No one really said much about it beyond a few whispers of, ‘ _Did you know_!’ but it was a widespread understanding that the two were quite close.

They rode, Cullen carrying a lantern in one hand to light the path. They talked idly, Cullen telling her about his day while she gave only vague hints as to what went on with Dorian. It wasn’t her place to tell everything that occurred.

At length they reached a lake and Cullen dismounted and placed the lantern on top of a wooden beam at the edge of a small dock. He turned to assist Amarantha down from her horse, smiling softly at her as she pressed against him, and placed a chaste kiss to her forehead before taking her hand and leading her toward the dock.

“Is this what you wanted me to see?” She asked, looking around at how serene and peaceful their surroundings were. “It’s lovely.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Cullen said as he let go of her hands to lean against the last support beam. “You walk into danger every day,” he said with a sigh, “I wanted to take you away from all that, if only for a moment.”

Amarantha smiled. “Thank you.” She sat then and began to unlace her boots. Cullen looked at her quizzically.

“What are you doing?”

She looked up at him as if he were mad. “Did you really think we’re just going to _look_ at the lake?” She asked. She rolled up her leggings when she was done and dipped her toes into the water, which lapped around her ankles. It was cool and sent a chill up her spine in a most pleasant manner. For a moment, it felt like home.

“Join me,” she said, “Or is the great Commander Cullen unwilling to get his feet wet?”

Amber eyes narrowed playfully at her, but he sat and began to tug at his own boots, tossing them behind him before rolling up his own pant legs and letting his feet join hers in the cool of the lake. “Maker, that’s cold!” He gasped, causing Amarantha to laugh.

“But it’s nice,” she said, scooting closer to him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and let her settle against him.

“Very nice,” he sighed.

They sat in silence for a long while, idly moving their feet in the water and watching the ripples swirl and grow around them. Cullen pressed a kiss to Amarantha’s hair and hummed contentedly. “My village is not far from here,” he said softly. “I used to come here all the time when I was young to escape my siblings.”

Her shoulders moved as she laughed. “I take it you did that frequently.”

“You have a sister,” he pointed out, “You know how loud siblings can be.”

“Good point,” she laughed.

“I would come here to escape. This place was always quiet,” he said, reminiscing on his younger days. “Of course they always found me.”

“Of course,” Amarantha agreed, knowing all too well the joys of hiding form- and being found by- her sister. “This place makes you happy.”

“It does,” Cullen whispered, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”

“Why?” She asked, snuggling into him, enjoying the comfort of his embrace and his warmth.

“I’ve been away,” he said simply, “Training, Kirkwall, now the Inquisition. I just never had an excuse to get away and come back.”

“Seems you have one now.”

Cullen hummed. “Indeed.” He paused a moment, then spoke again, “The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training,” he explained, “My brother found me. He said he had something for me. For luck. I think it was just what he had in his pocket, but he gave it to me.” Here Cullen shifted and pulled out a small silver coin from his pocket. He held it out in front of them for Amarantha to see. She reached out, tracing the warm metal with her fingertips.

“That was sweet of him.”

“It was,” Cullen agreed, “Templars aren’t supposed to carry things like this. We’re supposed to rely on our faith. But I’ve kept it all this time, because it meant so much to my brother for me to have something form him. And now I-I’d like to give it to you.”

Amarantha blinked and pulled away from Cullen, heart racing. “What?”

“I want you to have it,” he said again, gesturing to the coin.

She eyed the coin in shock, feeling her stomach twist in a knot. He couldn’t know what this meant...but what if he did? She looked at Cullen with wide eyes, watching as he stared at her with slight confusion. “Cullen,” she said carefully, “A-are you…. _proposing_?”

The Commander balked, leaning away as if she’d just struck him. “What!” He exclaimed, “No! I would never- I mean I _would_ \- but not...what?”

The two stared at each other, silent and uncertain, the coin resting in Cullen’s still outstretched hand. Amarantha was the first to recover and she found herself letting out a shaky breath of relief. “This is a _gift_ ,” she stressed, making sure she understood the intention. “Like the staff you gave my sister.”

Cullen nodded, his face burning red. “Yes.”

Dropping her head to hide her grin, Amarantha took a moment to breath, then lifted her feet out of the water and turned to face him. Brushing her hair out of her face, she said with a laugh,. “I’m so sorry! Cullen, with the Dalish, when two people are together and decide to bond - our version of marriage, basically - they exchange gifts. Usually a gift of significant meaning.” She gestured to the coin. “We have spent so much time speaking of our siblings that I….thought…..I misunderstood your intentions.” Another giggle escaped. “I’m so sorry I put you on the spot like that!”

Cullen’s own relief flooded him and he dropped his hand to his lap, fingers curling around the coin protectively. He let out a breath. “No,” he said, “It’s all right. I….I am ashamed to admit that I don’t know much about the Dalish….I didn’t think about what it might mean for you.”

“You had no way of knowing,” she said, “But…..if your _actual_ offer is still good…..”

Glancing down to his hand he nodded and held out his hand. “Yes of course.” He slid the coin from his gloved fingers to her small hand, then draped his fingers over hers. “It’s for luck,” he said softly, moving closer to her once more. “And to have a little piece of me whenever you must go.”

“I’ll keep it safe,” Amarantha said, slipping it into the pocket that held her sister’s bracelet. Once it was secure, she moved back closer to Cullen, pushing his chest lightly so that he was forced to lay on the dock. She curled into his side while Cullen lifted his legs out of the water so they were bent at the knee and let his feet rest on the edge of the dock to dry. Amarantha wrapped her arm over his chest and squeezed. Cullen rested his hand over hers where it lay over his heart.

“Do you-would it-” he sighed, and rolled his eyes at his own foolishness. Taking a breath, he spoke again, this time clearly and certain. “I’d like to propose to you one day.”

Amarantha tilted her head up to look at Cullen. His eyes were focused on the night sky above them, and he’d never looked more handsome than he did in that moment. She leaned up, resting her weight on her elbow and pressed a kiss to the scar that rested just above his lip. “I think Amaryllis would be terribly disappointed if you didn’t,” she teased, then whispered, “As would I.”

His mouth pressed against hers in reply, sliding softly against hers. She sighed at the sensation and shifted, pressing her lips firmly to Cullen’s, enjoying how quick he was to respond. He became more desperate, wanting to taste more of her and so he rolled them over until Amarantha was flat on her back, Cullen hovering over her with a wicked gleam in his eye. His mouth found hers again, seeking entrance which was granted eagerly. They remained this way for some time, lips brushing and teeth nipping, their movements interspersed with soft laughter and contented sighs. At length they broke apart, Cullen’s lips red and Amarantha’s swollen, and they looked at each other with utmost devotion and happiness.

“Cullen,” Amarantha breathed, suddenly desperate to say the words she’d been harboring in her heart for some time. If she knew she wanted to marry the man someday- and it seemed he wanted the same- she had no reason to doubt saying the words. Brimming with excitement, she reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I love you.”

For his part, Cullen didn’t seem surprised. Where Amarantha might have expected him to blink curiously or fumble for the words to return, he didn’t. He merely beamed, his eyes alight with a fire that wasn’t so much born of passion but of joy. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, her nose, and her cheeks, before touching her lips with his and whispering with absolute certainty, “And I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, for which I apologize. Real Life got in the way, but as I'm on vacation right now, I'm hoping to get a few chapters uploaded. The story is all but done, but is going through some major edits, which has also delayed updating. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	23. Assimilation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition prepares for Halamshiral, Cullen seeks help from Amaryllis, and a game of Wicked Grace is played.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Assimilation

 

The ball at Halamshiral hung over the companions of Skyhold like a shadow, hovering just beyond them, dark and mysterious. Despite that they were not hosting the ball, merely attending as distinguished guests, there was still a great deal of frantic bustling around, mostly by Josephine and Vivienne. They were both determined to make the Inquisition look good, and so there were many fittings, lessons, and stern glares from them to the rest of the Inner Circle.

Amarantha took the lessons in stride, finding that she enjoyed learning about the customs of men, even as she agreed with Cullen and Cassandra that they were ridiculous. But she understood why it was necessary for her to learn. She was Dalish. Most people would probably take one look at her and decide she wasn't worth their interest. And Josephine had made it clear that part of Amarantha's job at the ball was to make people talk about her. She needed to make an impression and so the more she mastered the foolish customs of noble men the better her goal would be fulfilled.

Amaryllis was not exempt from these lessons either. Amarantha had agreed to let her sister attend the ball to satisfy the girl’s curiosity about what the fuss was over, and so Amaryllis was being drilled in proper table manners, proper posture, and the correct way to respond to prying and ridiculous questions. She found it to be quite fun, a game like the name suggested and sat with shoulders back and demure smile as she dodged questions as easily as she dodged fireballs from Solas.

Josephine seemed delighted by the younger’s success, which equally amused and annoyed Amarantha. As Inquisitor, she had much more to learn, but was encouraged by Josephine’s firm but kind approach.

“You’ll learn, Inquisitor,” Josie said simply one day near the end of lessons, “You’re manners are impeccable, and you are quite knowledgeable about the Inquisition. We can use any lack of knowledge as a charming aftereffect of your Dalish upbringing. And people will want to hear stories of your childhood, growing up in the wild. They will mean it to insult you, but simply tell them of some of your clans achievements. It may….also help matters to mention…..what happened. People will be undoubtedly thirsty of a story of tragedy. It is painful, I’m sure...but it will certainly work in our favor.”

Amarantha stared dryly. “The death of my kinsmen is going to be used as fodder to entertain stuffy nobles?” She asked incredulously, “Delightful.”

“It is not ideal,” Josephine agreed, “But a necessary evil.”

“I understand,” the elf replied, “I just don’t like all this pomp and circumstance.”

“I know,” Josephine said kindly, “But it is one night. And it is an important night. You have endured much; I know you can survive a few hours of dull chatter with nobles.”

“One can only hope,” Amarantha replied through a yawn, stretching her arms over her head. Beside her, Amaryllis listened intently, legs crossed beneath her, looking like an eager pup ready to jump at the command.

“What else are we going to learn today?” She asked.

Josephine shook her head. “I must teach your sister how to dance,” she responded with a smile.

“Wait-” Amarantha said blushing, “Dancing?”

“Of course,” Josephine said with a knowing grin, “You will be required to dance. Many nobles will want the privilege of saying they shared a dance with the Inquisitor, and it would not do for you to be unprepared.” She paused and then added, “Besides, I’m sure there’s a certain someone who you wouldn’t mind dancing with.”

Amarantha flushed at that, but said nothing to dispute the claim. The thought of dancing with Cullen was a pleasant one, though she doubted he’d be interested in such a thing. His distaste for the ball was almost as harsh as Cassandra’s, who had made it abundantly clear that she was only going because it would help the Inquisition’s cause.

Grinning, Josephine began to instruct the Inquisitor on the varying styles of dance that were popular. Amaryllis debated on listening for a moment, but decided there were more enjoyable things to do, and so she slipped out of the ambassador’s office. She caught sight of Varric sitting by his usual space near the fire writing furiously and thought to stop for a brief visit before she was stopped by a soldier.

“Miss Lavellan,” the soldier said as he pressed his fist over his heart as a sign of respect, “Commander Cullen wishes to discuss something with you in his office.”

“Oh...Okay,” the young girl said, still unused to people referring to her respectfully. “Thank you.”

The soldier nodded and turned on his heel. Standing for a moment, Amaryllis wondered what Cullen could want to talk to her about. When Amarantha wasn’t focused on her preparations for the ball, she’d been somewhat giddy, and had been ever since her trip to Redcliffe with Dorian. She knew Cullen had gone as well, and the little elf pondered the thought of what might have occurred that would leave her sister so uncharacteristically cheerful.

She made a face, quickly discarded that thought, and rushed through the rotunda where Solas stood on a scaffold, one paintbrush in hand and another in his mouth. She paused a moment to watch him, though he did not seem to notice her. He was intently focused on his task, steady hand moving slow and graceful in a swirling pattern along the stone. He was humming, Amaryllis noted, a soft and pleasant song that echoed around them, casting a cheerful atmosphere to the usually quiet room.

Slipping past, she moved outside onto the battlements and broke out into a sprint, skipping steps as she hopped up to Cullen’s door. Not bothering to waste time knocking, she pushed the door open, biting back a laugh when Cullen jumped at the sudden intrusion. He looked tired, though he was always working, so Amaryllis thought perhaps that was normal.

“Ah, Amaryllis,” Cullen said, rubbing his temples with his hand, “Please come in.”

She did just that, shutting the door and leaning against it innocently. Cullen regarded her for a moment, then shook his head in amusement.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Cullen waved a hand. “Just thinking.”

Pushing herself off the door, Amaryllis walked forward to lean over Cullen’s desk, using her arms to hold her weight and letting her feet dangle just off the floor. “What about?”

“Too many things,” he admitted, his hand rubbing against the back of his neck. “The ball, for one.”

“Everyone’s thinking about the ball,” Amaryllis remarked, “I’m actually excited to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Oh, it’s a fuss, all right,” Cullen agreed, “And I hope you get your fill because if I have anything to say on the matter, we won’t be attending another one of these things for a long time.”

At that, Amaryllis giggled, raising her feet behind her and kicking them slightly. “You sound like Miss Cassandra.”

“On this subject, she and I agree completely,” he said before sitting down in his chair, “But I didn’t ask you here to complain about Halamshiral.”

“We could if you wanted to,” she shrugged before releasing her hold on the desk and taking the chair that was across from Cullen’s. Reaching down she began to play with the bracelet her sister had given her upon her return from Redcliffe. It was a simple, lovely trinket: something Amaryllis had not ever had before. She liked the pretty colors, and liked even more that her sister had thought of her when looking at them. Amaryllis liked the deep greens and purple shimmering on the small stones. It made her feel as if her sister was always with her, and she twisted the beads under her finger absently as she waited for Cullen to speak.

He took a long moment, eyes shutting briefly before opening them again, and while he still looked tired, he seemed a little less on edge. “I actually have a favor to ask of you. One that I would prefer Amarantha didn’t know about.”

She leaned forward. “A secret?”

“I suppose,” Cullen said thoughtfully, “More of a surprise, really.”

“What sort of surprise is it?” Amaryllis asked, suddenly excited.

“I…” he paused, then continued slowly, “I’ve come to the realization that I know nothing about the Dalish.”

“I could have told you that,” Amaryllis said bluntly. Cullen reached over and playfully flicked her nose.

“Now, now,” he said with a laugh, “I’m hoping you’ll help me rectify that.”

The girl blinked owlishly. “You want me to teach you about the Dalish?”

“I want you to teach me to speak the language.” He paused and added sheepishly, “And maybe some customs and rituals as well.”

“What kind of customs?”

Cullen’s cheeks darkened. “I admit I don’t know. I’m asking because-” here he sighed and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I accidently proposed to your sister.”

“You what!”

“I only meant to give her a gift,” Cullen explained hastily, “I wouldn’t dream of proposing while we’re still in the middle of a war. But she….misinterpreted my intentions. And I feel terrible for not knowing how simple things like giving a gift could be taken so differently.”

Amaryllis’ hands flew to her mouth to stifle her laugh. That was why her sister had been so silly? Because Cullen had accidently proposed! It was rather funny, but it also meant that her sister hadn’t been upset by the offer and possibly would have said yes had the question been intentional.

_Well then_ , Amaryllis thought, _good to know._ “You shems are funny,” she said after a minute, “But yes. I’ll teach you.”

Letting out a relieved sigh, Cullen nodded. “Excellent.”

\----------------

“No!” Amaryllis cackled as Cullen ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I said it just the way you did!” He protested, which only caused the girl to squeal in delight.

“No you didn’t!” She argued, grin spread wide. When Cullen had asked for her help, he hadn’t thought the young elf would be so eager. But she was, and they’d started almost immediately, Amaryllis starting off with a few simple phrases, which had turned out to be more amusing for her than educational for the Commander.

“Well, say it again,” Cullen replied, “Slowly.”

“It sounds silly when you say it slow.”

“I make it sound silly no matter how I say it, apparently, so do it slow.”

Rolling her eyes, Amaryllis said the phrase again, “Ma.”

Cullen repeated. “Ma.”

“Ser-an-nas.”

“Serannas.”

Amaryllis clapped. “You got it that time!”

“Good,” Cullen sighed in relief, then repeated the word so that he could remember the pronunciation. “And that means ‘thank you’.”

She nodded. “Uh huh.”

“All right,” Cullen said, committing the phrase to memory. “Next-”

The door behind them opened, and the two looked up like deers caught by a hunter. Amarantha stood in the doorway looking weary but pleased until she saw her sister sitting across from Cullen.

“What are you two doing?” She asked curiously as she made her way into the room. Amaryllis blinked.

“We were-”

“Amaryllis was complaining about her lessons,” Cullen finished for the girl, who glanced back and mouthed ‘Ma serannas’ to him.

Not noticing the private exchange, Amarantha moved to the desk and sat on top of it. “I thought you liked your lessons?”

“I do,” Amaryllis replied, “But it doesn’t mean that all those rules aren’t silly.”

“She’s right,” Cullen said, causing Amarantha to turn her head to look at him. He was a sight for sore eyes, and she smiled.

“You won’t hear an argument from me.”

Cullen motioned for her to join him, and so she stood long enough to move to where he was and balanced herself on the arm of his chair. His hand wound around her waist instantly, and they leaned into each other. Amaryllis watched them approvingly. She liked seeing them together. They made each other happy, and it was a pleasant thought to imagine that this was her family. She’d never imagined a day where a human would be someone she loved dearly, but she loved everyone at Skyhold dearly, the elves, humans, dwarves, and Qunari. They were all special to her, and though she missed her clan, she was glad to have such wonderful people in her life.

She was especially grateful for Cullen, and as she watched him next to her sister, the two of them looking so perfect in her eyes, she knew what she would teach the Commander next.

“Why don’t you tell us about your lessons, hmm?” Cullen asked Amarantha, drawing the younger sister out of her thoughts.

Amarantha opened her mouth to answer but Amaryllis jumped in instead. “She had to learn how to dance!”

“Oh did she?” Cullen said, glancing up to look at Amarantha who was blushing furiously.

“Yes, well,” Amarantha stammered, “It’s necessary, according to Josephine.”

“Do you know how to dance, Cullen?” Amaryllis interrupted with wide, innocent eyes. Or so they would be if there hadn’t been a wicked gleam just underneath.

Cullen stammered, “Well, yes, I do. I haven’t danced in…a long time, though.”

“Well you should practice so you can dance with my sister!”

The two looked at each other, cheeks red, but then Cullen tightened his hold on Amarantha’s waist and said with a surprising amount of confidence,”Your sister will be rather busy at the ball; however I think perhaps we can find time for one dance. That is, if you don’t mind?”

“I think that would be wonderful,” she said softly, then grinned mischievously and bent down to press her lips to Cullen’s. Amaryllis made a noise of protest and jumped out of her seat.

“Gross!” She called out before shutting the door behind her. That elicited a chuckle from both Cullen and Amarantha.

“I knew that would work,” she murmured against his lips, sliding from the seat into Cullen’s lap. He welcomed her eagerly and settled comfortably into his chair, the small weight of his beloved warming him and comforting him.

“Any reason you wanted her gone?” His hands trailed up her side gently, causing Amarantha to sigh.

“Perhaps,” she murmured, lowering her head to capture Cullen’s lips with hers.

\------------------------------

  
“I think it’s bloody ridiculous,” Sera griped as she stood with her arms crossed, glaring at Josephine. The ambassador, for her part, looked serene and unfazed by the elf’s distaste.

“And I think that if you want to go and ‘see what all the fuss is about’. then you are going to have to learn how to behave,” Josie replied sternly. “You aren’t going as some petty thief out to ‘stick it to some rich, noble arse’, as you so crudely put it. You are going as a representative of the Inquisition, and I will not have you running about like some kind of-”

“What? Savage? Go on you can say it.”

Josie pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. “Like some kind of messy, uncivilized _child_.”

“She’s right, Sera,” Amarantha spoke up, “If you want to go, you’re going to have to play by Josie’s rules. Or you can hang out here instead. Your choice.”

The girl glared and grumbled, but agreed with great and loud reluctance. When Josie turned her back for a moment, the girl stuck her tongue out at the ambassador and was promptly whacked on the arm by the Inquisitor.

“Ow! What the shite was that for!”

“Behave,” Amarantha whispered. She understood Josie’s concern. She shared it. The whole party would be going to the Winter Palace and while there were several members of Amarantha’s Inner circle that understood the rules of the Game, there were just as many who would stick out as novices. Amarantha wanted to show how diverse the Inquisition was. She wanted to prove that intelligence, ability, and strength knew no bounds and that her elven companions were just as capable as the humans were just as capable as her Qunari companion. She wanted to prove that a Dalish girl could in fact stand toe to toe with the elite of the nobility and be seen as worthy. Maybe not equal, not yet, but at least worthy. She’d vowed to always give people who came to her door a chance; she expected to leave the Winter Palace with that same courtesy.

Bull had remained silent thus far, watching Sera’s outburst with a look that seemed amused. He chuckled as Sera rubbed her arm dramatically, glaring daggers at both the Inquisitor and ambassador. That was a mistake however, because at the sound Josephine whirled around to face him.

“And you,” she said in a way that made Bull pull his shoulders back a little straighter lest he be reprimanded, “I need your measurements so we can ensure the uniform fits.”

Bull blinked, raising his hands in front of him. “Whoa, now. Nobody said anything about wearing a shirt.”

“If you want to go you are going to wear a shirt and you will keep it on the entire time, do you understand me?” Josephine’s voice was almost shrill from annoyance at this point, having had enough of the wild antics from the group. She wanted things to go as smoothly as possibly, but with the way some people were putting up a fight, it was going to be a battle in itself getting them to the palace at all.

“Boss,” Bull said, turning to Amarantha with a pleading look, “You can’t let her do this to me.”

Crossing her arms in front of her, Amarantha nodded toward Josie. “I don’t make the rules here, Bull.” “If Josie says you have to wear a shirt, then I’m not about to argue.” She lowered her voice, and said, making certain Josie could still hear her, “Besides, she’s terrifying! I’m not fighting her over anything!”

Behind them, sitting on the sofa watching the whole debacle was Amaryllis, Leliana, and Cole. The boy had just come from Varric, who had been slowly teaching him how to be more human, and he grinned with boyish wonder at the scene before him.

“Why doesn’t The Iron Bull like shirts?” Cole said, tugging on the sleeve of his own shirt, “I like them. This one is warm and comfortable. It’s like a blanket.”

Beside him, Leliana smirked at the boy’s innocence. She was leaning against the arm of the couch, arms resting in front of her as she observed the chaos that Josephine was trying to contain. “Because he’s the Iron Bull,” she remarked dryly, a touch of humor in her voice.

Amaryllis giggled on the other side of Cole. “He’s funny.”

“I can hear you,” Bull said, glancing behind him to where they were sitting. Amaryllis buried her head into Cole’s shoulder to stifle a laugh.

Amarantha sighed and glanced at Josie who looked positively annoyed. “I think that’s enough for today, don’t you?” She said gently. Josie looked like she might protest but nodded after a long moment.

“Yes,” she said, “I think that might be best.”

The group dispersed at that, Bull and Sera heading straight for the tavern while Leliana stood to wrap her arm comfortingly around Josie’s shoulder. “You’re doing fine,” she encouraged softly, “They will pull everything together by the time we leave.”

“I certainly hope so,” Josie said, then glanced at Amarantha, “You’re doing well, however, and I suppose that’s what matters most.”

“I have a wonderful teacher,” Amarantha replied, “Any elegance I have gained the past few weeks has been due to your unwavering effort, and each success of mine is merely a reflection of your own.”

Leliana cooed at that, patting Josie’s arm. “Looks like you _have_ done well,” she said. Josephine laughed.

“That was a most diplomatic answer,” she agreed, “I believe my work has paid off.” Amarantha slumped at that.

“Oh good!” She said, “I was afraid that came off too strong.”

“These nobles like their compliments like they like their ale,” Leliana stated, “Strong and abundant.”

The women laughed, then moved their separate ways. Amaryllis hopped off the couch, grabbing Cole’s hand as she followed her sister. Cole followed obediently, eager to tag along with the spritely little elf. He found that as much as he liked others in the Inquisition, Amaryllis was his favorite. She was wide-eyed and curious, almost spirit-like herself in how she didn’t seem to understand the complexities that sometimes surrounded her. She was wise, a trait she shared with her sister, but the world was still a mystery to her, and Cole appreciated that they could learn together.

“You’re free for the evening,” Amarantha said to her sister as they left Josephine’s office, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to do some research,” Amaryllis said, “I want to open that journal. And I think Solas may have some books that can explain how to break spells like that.”

“That sounds fun,” Cole said and the little elf turned to him.

“You can help me!”

The boy nodded eagerly. “I like to help.”

“Come on then,” she said excitedly, “I bet hehran Solas will be happy to let us look through his collection.” She paused a moment to hug her sister, then grabbed Cole’s hand once more and practically dragged the boy toward the rotunda. Amarantha watched the pair go, shaking her head. It was wonderful to see Amaryllis feel so at home here. It was even better to see that she had a friend. She recalled how in the Fade spirits had swirled around Amaryllis when they first arrived, friendly and welcoming even in such a dark and wicked place. It seemed even here spirits were drawn to the girl and while Amarantha knew that fact should be of more concern, she was confident that it meant nothing. Solas had spirit friends. Perhaps it was merely a mage thing she wasn’t meant to understand.

A throat being cleared brought her out of her thoughts and she glanced over to see Varric standing before her, looking as mischievous as ever.

“What?” She said, recognizing that gleam in the dwarf’s eye.

“Oh nothing,” he said, rocking back on his heel, “Just thought you might want to relax after all that crazy ‘noble training’ with a game of Wicked Grace. I’ve got almost everyone gathered.”

“I….don’t know what Wicked Grace is,” Amarantha admitted slowly, “Is it anything like chess?”

Varric laughed, “Oh no way! It’s a game with cards. It’s not too hard; I can teach you in the ten minutes it’ll take Josie to finish up things and arrive.” At her hesitation, Varric added, “Curly is playing.”

At the mention of her beloved, Amarantha rolled her eyes, knowing Varric had planned this. “All right, fine,” she said, “I’ll play. But go easy on me; I’d hate to embarrass myself in front of our Commander.”

Varric motioned her toward the room where everyone was gathered, then stepped off to grab Josie. “It’s not Wicked Grace if someone doesn’t leave the room in absolute shame!” He called out behind him, making Amarantha wonder, not for the first time, just what exactly she’d gotten herself into.

However, four games, three rounds of drinks, and seven hilarious tales by Varric later, Amarantha thought she had the game figured out. It wasn’t like chess, where she was focused on merely one opponent, but now there were several, and there was as much luck in the game as there was skill. She was by no means an expert, but she at least hadn’t made herself out to be a complete fool yet, though the same couldn’t be said for some others around the table.

Cassandra was far too expressive to be any good, and had lost horribly. She was not put out by this however, and even laughed at her misfortune when Varric beat her once more. She slid her coins over to him and scowled playfully, “I think you asked me to play _because_ you know I’m bad at it,” she accused.

“No,” Varric defended, “I asked because you’re bad and I knew you wouldn’t be able to say no.”

“Well, I for one just want to know what happened to that poor recruit!” Amarantha said, nudging Cullen with her elbow, “You never finished.”

“Oh yes!” Josephine said as she collected the cards and shuffled them. “Do tell!”

Cullen laughed and proceeded, “Well, he merely saluted as if he were in full regalia, and marched out of the hall!”

“No!” Bull cried out, slamming his hand on the table, “You’re shitting us!”

“No way,” Varric answered instead, “This is the kind of thing you _can’t_ make up.”

“The poor man never lived it down,” Cullen said, “He was called ‘Captain Starkers for years.”

Amarantha smacked a hand over her mouth, head falling forward at the ridiculousness of the name. She hadn’t had much to drink, but she felt light and silly all the same, the power of good company apparently enough to loosen her inhibitions without the risk of a hangover the next day.

“I want to hear a story about the Dalish,” Cassandra said after a moment, glancing at Amarantha, “If you don’t mind that is.”

Amarantha thought for a moment, trying to think of a story. In truth she hadn’t talked of the Dalish much since their massacre, and the thought of talking about them made her throat tighten. But hadn’t their purpose been to preserve their history? To restore it and share it? It would be a grave injustice to not speak of them to those who were interested, and so she settled on an incident that had happened when she was a girl and smiled.

“Well, there was this one time….”

  
\---------------------------------------

It was late when they decided to play one more round before going their separate ways. Cullen leaned forward in his chair and stared pointedly at Josephine. “I think I’ve figured out your tells, Lady Josephine,” he said.

“Commander, you should know a lady has no tells.”

Amarantha nodded, the movement stifled from where she was leaning against Cullen’s arm. “She’s right. We don’t.”

“No, you definitely do,” Varric said. “You blink too much when you have a good hand.”

Sitting up straight, Amarantha gaped at Varric. “I do not!”

“You totally do,” Bull said, “I can read you like a book.”

Glancing over to Cassandra for back up, she said, “Tell me they’re joking.”

Before the Seeker could answer, Varric piped in, “Please! Cassandra is worse than you!” He was promptly pelted by a crust of bread, which bounced off his head and into his half-empty mug of ale. “Rude, but nice shot,” he said with a wink.

“Well, then what are my tells?” Josephine said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I wouldn’t do you the dishonor of revealing them” Cullen said, “But let’s go again. I’ve got it figured out, I’m certain.”

“Only if we up the stakes,” Josie decided after a moment of consideration. “If you win, you may reveal my tells. If I win-”

“He loses his pants!” Bull called out, causing Dorian to snort into his cup to keep from spitting out his drink. Cullen blinked in fear, then glanced at Josephine who looked positively frightening.

“No,” she said slowly, deviously, “Not _just_ his pants. If I win, the Commander has to give me his armor. All of it.”

Amarantha glanced between the two with wide eyes. “I have to see this.”

Through the teases and taunts of his comrades, Cullen stuck his hand out for Josie to shake. “Deal.”

She grinned wickedly, and dealt the cards.

Ten minutes later, the Commander was standing behind his chair, staring straight ahead, unbuckling his armor and letting it fall off piece by piece. He said nothing, not acknowledging the groups catcalls as he stripped, making a special point not to look at Amarantha, who was torn between looking away out of respect and wanting _desperately_ to enjoy the show.

When he was naked, he saluted, then sat back down, looking stoic and unbothered despite the red of his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Josie said as she gathered his clothing to her side of the table, “You were saying?” With that she stood, curtsied, and practically skipped out of the room, Cullen’s clothing folded neatly in her arms.

Bull and Dorian stood as well to leave, as did Blackwall and Cassandra, the latter of which cast a humorous glance to Varric, who was nearly in tears from laughter.

He turned away, and Cullen’s shoulders slumped. Amarantha glanced around, noticing a stray cloak laying abandoned on a nearby table. She stood and grabbed it, then draped it over Cullen’s lap from behind. Her fingers trailed over Cullen’s shoulders gently, “I’d offer to let you sneak into my room, but I’m not sure you want to explain this to my sister.” She paused. “I’m not sure _I_ want to explain this to my sister.”

“I’m fine,” he said, standing to wrap the cloak around his waist. “And now I’m going to go lock myself away for the rest of my life.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Run.”

He nodded and did just that.

Once he was gone, Amarantha doubled over, unable to hold in her laughter anymore. She felt bad, too be sure, but it was terribly funny. She calmed after a moment and stood upright to see Varric looking at her. “What?” She asked, pressing a hand to her chest as she tried to catch her breath, her chest bearing a ghost of an old ache.

“This was fun,” he said, “It was good to see you let loose. You’ve got way too much shit to worry about. It’s hard to forget how to just….enjoy life sometimes.”

Amarantha nodded. “It is. This….this was good. I’m rubbish at the game, but…..the company was more than enough.”

That seemed to please Varric. “Well, when all this shit is over, maybe we can do it again.”

“That sounds dangerous,” she said, motioning in the direction Cullen fled from, “But I think I’d like that.”

 

 


	24. A Little Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halamshiral is upon them.

Chapter Twenty-Four: A Little Luck 

 

_ The woods were peaceful. The sun had just peaked over the hills in the distance, covering the area in a soft orange glow as it crawled up the sky slowly. Amarantha walked, her silken robes fluttering behind her in from the gentle breeze that pushed her hair back out of her face. She walked slowly, her feet bare on the soft grass below, fingers brushing against the trunks of trees as she wandered aimlessly. There was a calm that radiated from her, a peace she hadn’t felt in some time and she relished it, the quiet resonating around her, covering her like a warm blanket.  _

 

_ Her steps led her east, body drawn toward the warmth of the sun. It’s light burst beyond the clouds that had covered the stars in the night sky and continued to slide higher, the clouds themselves moving onward, as if floating lazily in a still river.  _

 

_ Several feet ahead, Amarantha could see her sister, who sat in the calf-high grass weaving flowers together between her tiny fingers. She moved fast, the skill a practiced one mastered at an early age. She looked up at her sister’s approach and smiled broadly.  _

 

_ “Here,” she said, holding her arms up with the crown presented. Amarantha took the crown and placed it atop her head, smiling as the scent of wildflowers engulfed her senses.  _

 

_ The elder sister sat beside her sibling, knees to chest as the younger girl began to weave another crown, this time placing it on her head. When she finished, she started a third, and Amarantha’s brows creased in confusion.  _

 

_ “Who gets that one?”  _

 

_ “Fen’Harel,” the girl said simply, as she completed the circle and stood. She stepped past Amarantha who turned violently, watching in silent alarm as the figure of a wolf, large, black with red eyes sat like an obedient pup just out of arm’s reach of her. Amaryllis placed the crown on the wolf’s head, then wrapped her arms around its neck in a hug.  _

 

_ “Wait,” Amarantha said suddenly, not certain what to do. The wolf merely looked at her, blinked its many eyes curiously, then stepped forward, Amaryllis’ following beside him, her hand resting lightly on the wolf’s back.  _

 

_ “He won’t bite,” the girl said with a touch of humor in her voice. Blinking from girl to wolf, Amarantha hesitated a moment, then reached out, fingers brushing the animal’s snout before moving up to scratch between his ears. The wolf seemed to enjoy the ministrations and stepped closer to her. Despite her uncertainty, she laughed, bringing up her other hand to rub the side of the wolf’s head. Had her grandmother been right? Was the Dread Wolf nothing to be feared?  _

 

_ The wolf blinked, then, and the red eyes that had once stared at her suddenly changed to an icy-blue. Startled, Amarantha jerked away, cowering when the wolf growled and leapt at her.  _

 

Amarantha blinked her eyes open, instantly glancing to her left and right, relieved when she saw no sign of a wolf in her midst. She was in her room at Skyhold, safe. Sitting up, she covered her face with her hands and groaned. 

 

Today was the day of the ball at the Winter Palace.

 

Next to her, Amaryllis stirred and blinked her eyes sleepily, moving to sit up to face her sister. “It’s morning already?” She asked groggily, wiping at her eyes. Amarantha nodded, reaching to her side to unbraid her hair. 

 

“Unfortunately,” she said through a yawn. “I wish I’d slept better. I suppose I’m not surprised I didn’t.” 

 

“Me too,” the younger girl replied, lying back down to watch her sister’s fingers work through her hair. “I dreamed about you,” she said softly. 

 

Amarantha looked over. “Huh. I dreamed about you too.” 

 

The girl propped her head up on her hand. “Really? What did you dream about?” 

 

“We were in a forest. You made flower crowns, and gave one to….the Dread Wolf. Silly, isn’t it?” 

 

When the girl didn’t answer, Amarantha glanced over to see her sister staring at her strangely. “Sister? What’s wrong?” 

 

“That was my dream,” the girl whispered. 

 

“What?” 

 

“I had a dream that I was making flower crowns. And then you showed up. And the Dread Wolf. He followed you. I made a crown for him and you pet him, but then he snapped at you. I….yelled at him.”

 

“You  _ yelled _ at the Dread Wolf?” 

 

“He was being mean.” 

 

Amarantha breathed out slowly. “I woke up when he snapped at me.” 

 

The girls were silent for a moment, then the younger asked, “Do you think that was just a dream?” 

 

“I’m not certain what else it could be,” Amarantha said through a yawn. “But there’s no use dwelling on it now. We have to get ready for the ball.” 

 

“Oh the ball!” Amaryllis exclaimed, “I forgot! This is going to be fun!” 

 

“Sister,” Amarantha said warningly. “This isn’t a game.” 

 

“Yes it is,” the girl argued, “It’s just a dangerous one. But I’m good at games.” 

 

Amarantha looked as if she wanted to protest, but she knew that nothing she said would convince her sister otherwise. In reality, it  _ was  _ a game. These people played with lives, gambled at the highest stakes. “We should get ready. We have a long day ahead of us.” 

 

The Inquisitor’s invitation had come from Grand Duke Gaspard, the cousin of the Empress and usurper. He believed he was meant to have the throne, and there were many who supported his claim. Through some sly workings on Josephine’s part, the Duke had generously offered an invitation to Amarantha and her associates, claiming that it would be quite a spectacle to show up together. 

 

The Inquisition party was due to leave that morning, travel until late afternoon, freshen up, then make their way to the Winter Palace where Gaspard would greet them at the gates. Amarantha packed her weapons, potions, and other necessary items into her satchel, changed into light traveling gear, then motioned for her sister to follow her out to the stairs to prepare for departure. 

 

They were the last ones to arrive, and the rest of the Inner Circle greeted them with a mixture of good humor and nervousness. There was a tension in the air, all of them knowing just how important this night was. The Inquisitor was to make a grand impression on the court, they had to stop an assassination attempt, and ensure that Orlais was not thrown into chaos. Amarantha had felt the heavy burden of her position many times. Today it weighed the heaviest. 

 

They split into groups, the elegant carriages sponsored by Gaspard waiting for them at the foot of the mountain and once they were settled, they set off for Halamshiral. Amaryllis, Cole, Cullen, and Amarantha took up the first carriage that lead the convoy. Behind them were Dorian, Bull, and Solas. Next was Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, and Varric. Sera, Blackwall, and Vivienne, who had not been particularly thrilled with her riding company, but said nothing and took the seating arrangement with grace and quiet disdain, as she did most things. 

 

In the first car, Amarantha rang her hands together nervously. The mark flickered green spurts magic from her palm every few minutes, a signal to Cullen that her nerves were getting the best of her. Saying nothing, he took her hand in his, fingers rubbing her knuckles assuringly as they rode in silence. She didn’t look at him, but felt her heart flutter at his gentle kindness. Across from her, Amaryllis was already asleep, apparently more tired from their dream than she’d been willing to admit. 

 

“She’s dreaming of wolves,” Cole said softly, looking down at where Amaryllis’ head was resting softly against his shoulder. “She likes them.” He glanced up at Amarantha, “But you’re uneasy. Why?” 

 

“It’s an important night, Cole-” Amarantha began, but Cole interrupted. 

 

“No,” he said, “Not that. The wolves. You want to trust them because you know you should, but your fear makes them angry. They smell it, like burnt toast, foul and unappealing. You’re not supposed to fear them.” 

 

She opened her mouth to protest, but then snapped her mouth shut, teeth clicking together. Cullen glanced from them curiously. “What’s he talking about?” 

 

“They dream of wolves, but is it a dream?” Cole said, “Is it a memory or a thought or a message? Can it be all three?” 

 

“I have….dreams,” Amarantha said to Cullen when Cole went silent. “Usually involving wolves.” 

 

“Like the Dread Wolf?” Cullen asked. Amarantha shrugged. 

 

“I think so. I’ve dreamt about them all my life. Grandmamae thought it was a message. I thought it was just because she filled my head with so many stories. She liked to talk about the Dread Wolf. Last night I had a dream….but Amaryllis had the same one. It’s rather strange.” 

 

“Has that ever happened before?” Cullen asked, curious. Amarantha shook her head. 

 

“Not that I know of. My sister knows I have vivid dreams, but she never seems to have them; that or she just doesn’t remember them after she wakes up.” 

 

“Could it be merely nerves about tonight?” Cullen tried. “You have been under a great deal of stress.” Amarantha shrugged. 

 

“I don’t know. Possibly. I shouldn’ let it bother me. It was just a dream.” 

 

“Well, if you want to sleep now, you can,” Cullen offered, “Maker knows you’ll need to be well-rested. Perhaps when this is over we can talk further about your dreams. I…..know a thing or two about them.” There was something underlying in his statement, a dark confession that made Amarantha uneasy. Did he suffer from night terrors? She knew many in the Inquisition did. She felt a pang of guilt for being so disturbed by a harmless dream when it seemed that perhaps Cullen had his fair share of problems as well. But he was right, that was a conversation for another time. 

 

Curling against him, Cullen wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she settled against his embrace, her racing heart calming until it matched the steady tempo of Cullen’s, and before she had time to wonder if her dreams would be plagued again, she was asleep. 

  
  


\---------------------------------

 

The carriage jolted to a stop and Amarantha’s head slipped forward, snapping her awake. She felt a hand shift to rub gently at her neck and glanced over to see Cullen looking down at her with a soft, amused smile. “Where are we?” She asked, stretching her arms and twisting her head from side to side to stretch out her cramped neck muscles. 

 

“We’re here,” Cullen said, “You’ve been asleep for some time.” 

 

She was about to apologize for that, but was stopped by Cullen leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek. “I must confess I dozed off for a while myself.” Across from them, Cole and Amaryllis were curled up together, sleeping soundly and unfazed by the lurching stop of the carriage. Amarantha looked at her sister warmly, studying the young girl’s features. She was curled up as small as she could get, her head tucked under Cole’s chin, which rested on the top of her head. His hand rested on Amaryllis’ arm, looking like a protective older brother, keeping his sister safe even as he fell asleep. Reaching forward, Amarantha gently touched where his hand met her arm and shook. Both roused almost instantly blinking in confusion. 

 

“We’re here,” Amarantha said softly, “Time to wake up.” 

 

The door to the carriage opened then, the movement sharp and quick, and Vivienne stood before them, looking prim and fresh, despite having been cramped in a carriage for several hours. “Come, Inquisitor.” she said coolly, “We must get you ready.” 

 

Offering her hand, Vivienne helped Amarantha out of the carriage, waited until Amaryllis hopped out as well, then ushered the two off through the main door of the house in which they were stopping to change. The home belonged to a friend of Vivienne’s who had been more than willing to allow the Inquisition to stop. It would do nothing but bring favor to her, to be seen playing hostess- however briefly- to the Inquisitor, and so the woman, a middle-aged noblewoman by the name of Ellis greeted them as they entered, her own formal gown and mask already in place. 

 

“Greetings!” She said in a far too cheerful voice, “Inquisitor Lavellan, it is such an honor to have you here. Please, if you will follow me, I will show you to your room.” Amarantha, Vivienne, and Amaryllis followed, while the others were greeted by a young elven servant who ushered them to the guest wing of the large Orlesian home. 

 

Once settled in the ornate guest room, Amarantha sat while Vivienne unpacked her satchel, placing varying types of rogues, lip stains, and kohl on the table. She pulled out combs and bottles of strangely colored liquids, all the while muttering to herself, taking stock of all she had brought. The sisters gave each other amused glances, then proceeded to look around the room. It was ornately decorated, gold-plated designs covering the ceiling and elaborate paintings hanging from the walls, no doubt of the woman’s family. Flowers in large antique vases covered every flat surface in the room, giving the space a natural, floral scent. The bed on which Amarantha was seated was made from a strong oak, the four posters carved with ivy and floral patterns. The headboard featured a carving of a nature scene, with halla feeding on the grass that had been elegantly carved throughout. 

 

Amaryllis moved over to a trunk that sat under a large window that looked out over the gardens and lifted the lid curiously. Vivienne snapped at her to mind her manners, and the girl let the lid fall with a loud  _ thud _ . “Sorry, Lady Vivienne,” she said with a small voice. When the woman turned her back to continue rummaging through her things, Amaryllis lifted the lid again, this time more quietly to peer inside. Some old clothes, a few tattered books, and a dagger were all that she saw inside before quickly shutting the lid once more before moving over to the large armchair by the hearth, covered in a floral pattern with browns, greens and pinks. She hopped onto the chair, her feet nowhere near the ground and kicked them out in front of her. 

 

At last Vivienne turned and approached Amarantha. “We must make sure your natural beauty shines through,” she said as if she were teaching a lecture, “We will not have you painted up like some savage who thinks she must cover herself with color. Instead, we will be subtle, as that is the true mark of your beauty.” 

 

Taking a cloth, she wiped Amarantha’s face, before turning to Amaryllis. “Clean your face as well,” she instructed, “And comb your hair. We will make you look as natural and innocent as possible. It will cause others to underestimate you, and that will be your advantage, my dear.” 

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Amaryllis said, knowing better than to argue with her etiquette teacher. She began wiping her face, scrubbing until her cheeks felt red. She looked over, seeing a mirror hanging on the wall behind the door and moved over, pausing before she pushed the smaller armchair with the same floral pattern closer to stand and see herself. 

 

Vivienne continued to work, lining Amarantha’s eyes with kohl, which the elf tended to wear. As the mage worked, Amarantha asked, “Should we cover my vallaslin?” 

 

“No,” Vivienne said automatically, “It will be a conversation piece. They will find it savage, but you will impress them with your tact and elegance. You shall contradict yourself at every turn. An elf who does not paint herself up. A Dalish who abides by ancient, seemingly barbaric rituals who can hold her own in a battle of politics and wits with the highest nobles on Thedas. You will amaze them, you will haunt them. You will be a mystery that will draw them to you and that is where you will strike.” She paused and motioned for Amarantha to pucker her lips. Picking up a bottle of red stain, she light painted over Amarantha’s mouth. “They will speak of this night for years to come.” 

 

Satisfied with her work, she moved Amarantha so that she was half sitting on the bed, and began to work on her hair. “As with your makeup, we will be subtle. You hair is straight, and lovely, but a few curls in the right places will do wonders.” 

 

“This is your area of expertise,” Amarantha confessed, “I am yours to do with what you will.” 

 

“And that is what I like to hear,” Vivienne said with satisfaction.  

 

Two hours later, both sisters were made up, dressed, and staring at themselves in the small mirror in the guest room. Amaryllis stood on the chair, despite Vivienne’s fussing that her boots would ruin the fabric, looking between herself and her sister. Her hair had been curled, spirals rounding her head and making her hair look a few inches shorter than it really was. Vivienne  _ had _ applied the tiniest hint of rouge to the girl’s cheeks to give them a youthful glow, but other than that natural painting that merely made her look like she’d been running, nothing else had been done. The curls bounced every time she moved her head, and some curls stuck out in varying directions, a careful maneuver on Vivienne’s part. “It will make you look wild,” Vivienne had explained, “Which is what we want.” 

 

She wore the uniform that had been made for all others of the Inquisition, a red dress tunic when dark blue breeches and a blue sash over her chest, the Inquisition insignia pinned to the upper part just under her shoulder. . Her tunic, unlike the others, was more in the style of an elven one, hanging to her mid thigh and straight without all the trimmings, whereas the adult’s tunics were shorter and more fitting to their form. She wore a dark grey boot that rose to her knees, and while her sister had boots with a slight heel, Amaryllis’ were completely flat, keeping her at her small height. 

 

Glancing over to her sister, she stared at the woman with awe and wonder. She had never seem Amarantha look so pretty before. She thought her sister was lovely, had always thought so, but tonight she thought Amarantha could pass for a princess. She wore no dress like the other nobles would don, but instead wore a red form fitting tunic that tucked into her breeches, which were a dark grey that matched the color of her boots. Over the tunic was a coat of the same royal blue as the others’ sashes, with a high color that slid down to an open V, revealing the long column of her neck. The coat cinched at her waist with golden buttons in the shape of leaves, then flared out around her at the sides and back, giving the appearance of a long, elegant dress from behind. The coat just barely missed touching the floor by an inch, and flowed out behind her like a cape when she walked. The sleeves were long and form fitting but comfortable, stopping at her wrists, the left of which was covered in a grey glove to hide the mark. The right hand remained exposed, a strange but appealing statement that Vivienne declared would become the new trend after that night. 

 

She would not be carrying her weapons during the ball, but the length of her coat allowed for two small knives to be strapped to the back of her boots. Her daggers would be snuck in by Sera and hidden in a nondescript location in the palace. Though Sera wore the uniform of the Inquisition, she would be considered no more than a mere servant, and would thus go mostly unnoticed. 

 

True to her word, Vivienne had been subtle with Amarantha’s makeup, only lining her eyes lightly with black kohl, painting her cheeks with the slightest pink that made her look as if she were perpetually blushing, and her lips had been touched with a light red, giving them just enough color to pop, but not look as if she were a clown. Her hair was down, the tendrils around her ears curled into tight spirals similar to her sister, with sparse curls added in varying spots, making her hair a mix of straight and bouncy, playful spirals.  

 

Around her neck, where the collar of her coat opened and exposed her throat to the world lay a necklace, the chain silver and thick but delicate, with the insignia of the Inquisition resting on her chest, encrusted with rubies, sapphires, and diamonds. Behind that necklace, on a much smaller chain sat the coin Cullen had given her. She’d asked Dagna, the bubbly dwarf with a penchant for messing with dangerous and magical items as if they were child’s toys, to create a case in which the coin might stay. The obsidian circlet opened in two pieces, allowing the coin to slide between them, then snap shut, securing it in place. It was hidden by the large Inquisition pendant, but it was there, and it brought Amarantha an irrational but genuine comfort to know that Cullen’s lucky coin was next to her heart. 

 

Coming to stand behind them, Vivienne let her hands rest on the girl’s shoulders. “I believe this is my finest work yet,” she declared, “Now, let us go find the others. You may practice your entrance one last time, for good measure.” 

 

Nodding, Amarantha held her sister’s hand as she hopped off the chair, and the three women vacated the room to move to the foyer, where everyone else was waiting on them. Vivienne went down first, her steps elegant and graceful, chin held high as her hand brushed the railing of the stairs, looking as dignified as ever. When she reached the bottom, she nodded to the group who stood waiting, and called softly for Amaryllis to come down. The girl did, moving slowly and mimicking Vivienne's descent. She noticed the smile on Cullen and Cassandra's face, and felt her cheeks burn when Dorian winked at her approvingly. 

 

Lady Ellis clapped her hands approvingly from behind the group, cooing over the girl. Amaryllis remained stoic, stopping at the bottom of the steps to practice her bow, and thanked the noblewoman for her kind words. The lady beamed, and Vivienne tilted her head up, clearly proud of the work that had so clearly paid off. 

 

A moment later, the soft clicking of heeled boots echoed on the marble stairs, and Inquisitor Amarantha made her debut. The group’s eyes all widened at her appearance, Cullen’s especially, and he found himself captivated as she glided down the stairs as if she were floating. She held her lips in a soft, pleasant smile, eyes focused on the Commander as she descended, stopping at the edge of the stairs to address her companions. Hands placed demurely in front of her, she tilted her head in greeting. “Good evening,” she said to them, “Shall we make our way?” 

 

“Damn, Boss,” Bull said, breaking the stunned silence of the group, “You look  _ good _ .” 

 

That brought out a giggle from the elf. “Thank you, Bull.” 

 

“Lady Vivienne, I am amazed,” Dorian added, “You have outdone yourself.” 

 

“When one has such a lovely subject, it is not hard to do so,” Vivienne said expertly. “Come, or we risk being late.” 

 

The group began to disperse, making their way to their carriages, led by the enthusiastic Lady Ellis. Cullen lingered for a moment, stepping closer to Amarantha who had yet to move from her spot. Stopping just shy of her, Cullen leaned down to whisper to her, “You are beautiful.” 

 

“I feel beautiful,” she admitted, “I hope I measure up.” 

 

Taking her ungloved hand, Cullen brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, “You will exceed expectations,” he whispered, “You always do.” 

 

Keeping her hand in his, she lifted her gloved hand to the necklace, tugging it aside so that he could see the coin behind it. His eyes softened when he realized what she was showing him. “My dear,” he breathed. 

 

“It’s so I can keep you with me tonight,” she whispered back, “And besides….a little luck can’t hurt.” 

 

“Indeed not,” he laughed, leaning forward to press a kiss to her lips. He leaned back, looking at her lovingly, though his brow creased in confusion when she lifted her hand to wipe at his lips. 

 

“Red isn’t a good color on you,” she laughed, watching with amusement as Cullen flushed and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his mouth, frowning when it came back lightly stained red. 

 

“I suppose I’ll have to hold off on that until  _ after _ the party ends,” he grumbled good naturedly. 

 

“Hey, love birds! Hurry up!” A voice called from the doorway. Cullen turned and Amarantha peered over his shoulder to see Varric standing there, looking amused. 

 

“Coming, Varric,” they said together. Cullen offered her his arm and they made their way out of the house. Once they were settled, this time Solas and Amaryllis joining them in their carriage, Amarantha let out a heavy sigh. 

 

Solas cocked a brow. “Nervous, da’len?” 

 

“My stomach is in knots,” she admitted, “I can’t help but think of all the ways in which this can go wrong.” 

 

“We all have our duties,” Solas said softly, “And everyone is capable. Whatever goes wrong will be taken care of. And you are  _ more _ than capable of handling these nobles,” he stressed. 

 

“Solas is right,” Cullen agreed, “You’ve worked hard for this. I have no doubt that you will succeed.” 

 

“Indeed,” Solas said softly, “Whatever awaits us tonight, it will be met with triumph. You have proven yourself time and again. This shall be no different. And you have the rest of the Inquisition at your aid, should you need it.” He paused and added with a wry grin, “Though I am not certain I can help you when it comes to dancing.” 

 

Amarantha let out a short laugh, and found she felt a little better. “Thank you,” she said to her friend.    
“Though you both are far more certain than I am,” she said, taking a deep breath and breathing out slowly. “But I hope you’re right.” 

 

“The time for hope is over,” Solas said as the carriage pulled up to the gates of the Winter Palace, “Now is the time to act.” 

 

Nodding once, Amarantha took a breath as the carriage slowed to a stop. She could hear the sounds of the others exiting their own carriages and allowed Cullen to assist her out of her own, gripping his hand tightly in her nervousness. Solas gave her another look of assurance, then turned away to address Cassandra. Alone for the moment, Amarantha took the opportunity to observe her surroundings. The palace was enormous, the outer terrace in which they were to enter filled with masked nobles. They turned to look at her, curiosity evident even behind the decorative designs. 

 

Lifting her hand, Amarantha touched her necklace, finding comfort in the small coin that lay beneath the insignia. Taking a breath, she allowed Cullen to take her arm, and the group stepped through the gates and onto the grounds of Halamshiral. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Close to halfway finished with this story. I hope any readers left are still enjoying. There is plenty of excitement to come! (and it's not all canon compliant ;-) )


	25. Hollow Beauty (Halamshiral, Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For all it’s splendor, there was no love here. No compassion, no mercy. It’s beauty was hollow, as shallow as the people who lined its halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any mistakes. 
> 
> Part two will be up tonight as well.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Hollow Beauty (Halamshiral, Part 1) 

 

The world was beautiful. It was a vast, bright, sublime place with varying shapes, colors, and textures. Amarantha had seen many of them in her travels with her clan: looming mountains, brown deserts, blue oceans. She had seen fields of red and purple and yellow and caves of the darkest black. Brown and green made up the walls of her world and blue, white, and gray made up her sky. Her path was littered with a rainbow of color, from gold to white to pink, and she had witnessed beauty indescribable as she had walked uncountable steps through the world. 

 

But Halamshiral, for all that it was man made, was a sight unlike anything she had ever seen. The same colors that littered the world were all gathered here, from the ladies’ dresses to the tapestries on the walls, to the ornately decorated arched ceilings that towered above her and made her crane her neck to take in. She was surrounded in gold and blue, and the sea of people formed a mismatched pattern of elegance in their silks and velvets, faces obscured by masks that added a certain ethereal element to the grand halls that shouted of their glory and rank in every color conceivable. 

 

It was beautiful. Amarantha had no other word to describe the large staircases and carved pillars and arched ceilings and grand doors and marble floors. Everything was beautiful. She tried to keep herself in check, as it would not do for the Inquisitor to be seen gaping at the sight before her. She had already been met with instant scrutiny for not only arriving with Duke Gaspard, but for….being herself. 

 

She’d heard several murmurs about her heritage already, and she’d only been here fifteen minutes. She had already made one acquaintance by returning a ring a woman had dropped and had rolled under a bush on the way in. That had won the woman’s praise, but so far others seemed to only see her ears and vallaslin, for all that she was dressed in the finest clothing she’d ever owned. 

 

Gaspard had joined her not long after their arrival, taking her arm and talking animatedly about this and that. Amarantha listened to him closely and carefully, knowing full well that tonight’s peace talks that featured the man on her arm were crucial for the future of Thedas. And if Gaspard had any tricks up his sleeve, she was determined to get them out of the man, even if she had to giggle foolishly at a few of his horrid jokes to get there. 

 

Eventually after a few preliminary introductions to some nobles, Gaspard led Amarantha inside where the rest of the group waited on her. Amarantha stretched out her hand and Amaryllis dutifully came to her sister’s side, holding her ungloved hand as they walked together with the Duke toward the Grand Ballroom, where distinguished guests were being presented to the Empress. Not all of the Inquisition’s party would be introduced, including Solas, Sera, and Iron Bull, who were fine with the lack of attention. They were free to mingle with the guests, charming their way to insight on the events of the ball. Bull was sure to gather attention from those who thought him exotic, and his charm would be used to every advantage. Sera would hang with the servants, talking trash about the Inquisition- though nothing too damning- and gaining the trust of the elves who were disenchanted with the nobles they served. Solas would remain the mysterious apostate who would keep to himself as much as possible, listening in on conversation and reporting to Leliana anything of interest he heard. As a quiet, stoic elf, he would be easily ignored, and therefore go mostly unnoticed. The others, those who had titles and status would be presented, then go off and speak with others of their social ranking and try to gather intel until Amarantha gave the signal. Amaryllis would stay in the ballroom, meant to distract with her adorable child-like naivety. Her age played to her favor, Vivienne said, as most would only see her as the little sister of the Inquisitor and would not think her capable of any sort of manipulation. 

 

The group was presented, each called out by name and rank, finally ending with the Inquisitor herself. She was presented, as was her sister- “Lady Amaryllis Lavellan” and they walked together hand in hand with the rest of the Inquisition across the ballroom to where Empress Celene and her cousin stood. Celene bid the Inquisitor and her company welcome, smiling warmly at Amaryllis. “And aren’t you a lovely little creature,” she said with affection. Amaryllis bowed. 

 

“You are very kind, Your Grace.” 

 

Celene hummed in delight, “And so polite. I must say I am impressed. We must speak later, Inquisitor. I am eager to know more of you.” 

 

“And I am of you,” Amarantha said smoothly, the words rolling off her tongue in a natural manner that surprised her. 

 

Celene smiled, and with a motion to her cousin, the two disappeared into the crowd. Breathing out, Amarantha gently tugged on her sister, pulling her up the side staircase that led to the upper level of the ballroom, where guests could eat, chat, and spectate on the ballroom and its couples below. 

 

“Fen’Harel take me that was horrible,” she breathed. Amaryllis shrugged. 

 

“She seemed to like it.” 

 

“I suppose. Okay, go be charming. Stay in the ballroom or the vestibule though. I want someone from our group to be within eyesight of you at all times, do you understand me?” 

 

“Yes, sister.” 

 

“Good. You know what to do.” 

 

The girl turned and moved, walking around with hands behind her back, looking curiously at people as she passed before she stopped in front on one lady who was standing alone. “I like your dress, ma’am,” she said politely, looking down with an innocence that appeared genuine to everyone but those who knew her. The woman seemed delighted at the fact that she had been complemented by the sister to the Inquisitor and began to speak happily to the girl. Glancing away for a brief moment, Amaryllis winked at her sister, then turned her attention back to the woman, reaching up innocently to touch the beading on the woman’s collar. “We don’t have such fine things in my clan. You must be quite important.” 

  
  


Rolling her eyes, Amarantha moved on, knowing her sister would be fine. She was meant to entertain and distract, and she seemed to be doing a fine job. Varric was signing autographs in one corner, chatting up the young ladies with a smug smoothness that was sure to gain some information. Cole had disappeared entirely, no doubt snooping where he shouldn’t be for secrets and other valuable information. 

 

Cassandra was glowering in the corner, an older man with a large stomach and a full cup of wine talking to her about something she clearly didn’t care about. Amarantha moved through the crowd, hands clasped in front of her, a soft smile on her lips. She wanted to look approachable, and before long she was approached by several young women, eager to talk about her clothing and her status. She entertained them for several minutes, then moved on to speak to a gentlemen about the quality of the food. She slipped into another room where she examined the great marble statues that lined the walls as she listened to two women whispering to each other. They seemed unaware that Amarantha could hear them, and she smiled to herself as she ran a hand gently over the stone carving of the warrior. 

 

_ Good to know _ , she thought as the women left the room. She carried on, admiring the decor of the room and using that as the perfect excuse to listen to the whispers of others as she played the wide-eyed elf who was entranced by the vanity and grandeur of men. It was not a difficult role to play, but she threw herself into it, and soon had learned of several incriminating tales as to probably blackmail half the court. Leliana would probably be interested, and could make more out of the secrets as the names would no doubt mean more to her. 

 

She found the spymaster sipping wine on a chaise in the vestibule, watching Amaryllis with a proud smirk. Amarantha joined her, and opened with light conversation about enjoying the ball, waiting until several groups of people passed by before recounting all she had heard. 

 

“Impressive,” Leliana said as she leaned back against the arm of the chaise. “And useful.” 

 

“I thought it might be.” 

 

They talked for a few more minutes, keeping things light for appearances, then Amarantha moved on, finding Gaspard and allowing him to introduce her to some of his friends as his special guest. She charmed them, speaking with wit and subtlety. Eventually she slipped out onto a balcony for some quiet and fresh air, jumping in surprise when Cole appeared beside her. 

 

“So many doors,” he whispered, “But I unlocked them. They don’t want their secrets to be discovered, but they are secrets that hurt.” 

 

“Have you learned anything useful?” 

 

The boy nodded. “Everyone here wears a mask. But behind that mask lies another. And another. No one has a face here, only masks. Why do they hide? Is it because their insides are ugly? I think they are. There is no kindness here.” 

 

“No there isn’t.” 

 

“You don’t wear a mask, and it frightens them. You are exposed, even as your own doors are locked. They don’t know where to find the key.” He paused, then added, “The servants quarters. Something is wrong there.” 

 

“Explore some more,” she whispered, “Find anything you can on Gaspard, Celene, and Briala. I want to know what they’re all up to.” 

 

“They hoard secrets like gold.” 

 

“Then let’s loot them for all they’re worth.” 

 

Cole grinned at that, boyish and enthusiastic, and disappeared. Amarantha moved to return inside, but was stopped by a tall woman with jet black hair and piercing golden eyes. She was dressed in fine clothing, though nothing so as grandiose as the others, and without a word she took the Inquisitor's arm and led her back onto the balcony. Uncertain of whether to protest, but unwilling to cause a scene, Amarantha followed, silently focusing her attention on her hand, ready to use it as her weapon should the need arise. 

 

“‘Tis a pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor,” the woman said with a casual elegance, “Word of your heroics has spread far and wide. A Dalish woman chosen by blessed Andraste herself to save the world. I wonder what could cause such an esteemed creature to come to the Imperial Court for something as trivial as a ball.” 

 

“I am here on business, my lady,” Amarantha said, uncertain of the woman’s rank and not wishing to insult. 

 

The woman hummed in delight, “So polite, but an unnecessary title. I am Morrigan, Some call me Advisor of the Arcane for Empress Celene.” 

 

Amarantha had been briefed on this woman before arrival at the palace. She felt wary, not sure if she what to make of the woman on her arm. Did she suspect the Inquisition of espionage? 

 

“You and your party have been quite busy this evening,” she said in a smooth, lush voice, “Sneaking around, silently interrogating those in your company. I wonder what you hope to achieve?” 

 

“I am merely admiring the splendor of the place,” Amarantha said, “Never have I encountered such impressive architecture.” 

 

“A charming speech, and were I anyone else I might find myself impressed. But I do not believe you. I  _ do _ believe, however, perhaps our missions are aligned.” 

 

“And if they are?” Amarantha asked. Morrigan let go of her arm and turned to lean on the bannister. 

 

“Then allies we shall make.” 

 

“What do you know?” 

 

Morrigan seemed pleased with the question. “Recently I found- and killed- an unwelcome guest in these halls. He was an agent of Tevinter. I found a key on his body.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a golden key. “I do not know what it is for, but I suspect you might have use of it. Unless that boy of yours has already unlocked every door in the palace.” 

 

“Cole doesn’t like locked doors.” 

 

“I suspected so.” 

 

“I’ve heard rumors,” Amarantha said, “I believe I know where this key leads, and where to start looking.” 

 

“Then look quickly,” Morrigan said, “I must return to Celene’s side. I suspect there are those who wish her harm tonight.” 

 

“Then we will speak later.” 

 

“I look forward to further conversation,” Morrigan said, shivering in delight. “This shall be most exciting.” 

 

Morrigan left and Amarantha counted to five before following her out. Moving through the crowd, Amarantha moved to find Cassandra signaling to her with a touch to her nose that she was ready. Cassandra excused herself and moved to Amarantha. “Servants quarters,” she whispered and Cassandra nodded, moving off to find Solas, who would be joining them in their little excursion. 

 

She found Sera with some servants, and as she passed she touched her nose again and Sera told the friends she’d made that she was going to go off and find some ale. She left and Amarantha rounded the room once more, then made her own way to the entrance of the servants quarters. Solas and Cassandra were already inside where Sera was handing them their weapons, which she’d hidden earlier. Amarantha had no idea how the girl had managed it, but chose not to ask, as she probably didn’t want to know. Instead she nodded in thanks as Sera handed her her daggers. They slipped outside, quietly and quickly, knowing that while the two other elves might not be missed, the exiled princess and Inquisitor surely would be. 

 

Immediately a body was discovered, a knife sticking out of the corpse’s back. 

 

“Looks like Cole was right,” Muttered Amarantha. 

 

“That is the Chalon family crest!” Cassandra exclaimed as she bent to inspect the body. “Gaspard is involved.” 

 

“Of course he is,” Solas remarked, before a shout pulled their gazes across the way. A woman, a servant, ran frantically but was cut down by a Venatori agent. Amarantha grabbed a small knife that was strapped to the back of her boot and threw it, the blade digging into the man’s throat and sending him stumbling to the ground. Four other agents dressed in white appeared and the group disposed of them, slashing away at them with as much discretion as possible. Once they were dead, Amarantha inspected them. “They were watching us. This goes much deeper than I think we expected.” 

 

“Bloody arseholes,” Sera griped, pulling her arrows out of a man’s back and wiping the blood on his tunic.

 

Amarantha couldn’t help but agree. “We’ve got to keep moving,” she said, “Cole unlocked all the doors he could find. Hopefully they’ll lead to something we can use.” They moved on, slipping through the closed parts of the palace, searching through documents and pulling out letters with vital information to intrigue and sabotage. They rushed along, knowing that soon they would be truly missed, when they rounded a corner to find a few more men in white, who looked ready for them. They fought once more, and when there was only one man left, Amarantha moved to strike, but a blade zipped by her, barely grazing her ear and slamming into the man’s chest. She whirled around to see an elf dressed more elegantly than the others at the ball and it only took a moment to realize who this woman was. 

 

“Fancy meeting you here, Inquisitor,” the woman said, “I came to save- or avenge- my people, but it seems you’ve beaten me to it.” 

 

“You knew these men were here.” 

 

“Of course,” the woman sniffed. “But allow me to introduce myself. I am Ambassador Briala.” She pulled out a small handkerchief and stepped forward, touching it to Amarantha’s ear. “My apologies. My aim is usually not so poor.” 

 

Amarantha took the cloth and held it to her ear. “Nobody's perfect.” 

 

Briala laughed. “Indeed not. Though I must admit I’m impressed by your….quickness. This place is cleaned out.” 

 

“I mustn’t be missed,” Amarantha said carefully. Briala smirked. 

 

“Indeed not.” She paused a moment, then asked, “The Council of Herald’s Emissary in the courtyard….” 

 

“We found him that way,” Amarantha said, knowing exactly what the other elf was implying. 

 

“So you did.” She stepped closer, eyeing the Inquisitor closely. “You arrived with the Duke, but I do not believe you are on his side. He is clearly up to no good and I believe he may try to strike tonight.” 

 

“You truly believe that?” Amarantha asked. Briala nodded. 

 

“I do.” 

 

“Then we will stop him. If you have any more information, please find Commander Cullen Rutherford. Tell him what you can.” 

 

Briala smiled. “You may yet make a valuable ally, Inquisitor. I should not have judged you prematurely.” 

 

“Perhaps not,” Amarantha said, “I think we both know such judgements do not do anyone much good.” 

 

That made Briala think for a moment. “You are far too right in that regard. Until later, Inquisitor.” She nodded to Solas and Sera, then walked back the way she came, a lightness to her steps that seemed far too confident for the situation at hand. 

 

“Solas, Sera,” Amarantha said, “I need you to keep searching for information. Cassandra and I have been gone too long.” 

 

“Of course, Inquisitor,” Solas said. Sera snorted. 

 

“Can I go through their underwear drawers?” 

 

“Don’t steal anything that is not  _ actual  _ information, and leave no trace. Otherwise I don’t care what you rummage through.” 

 

“Yes! Let’s go, baldy.” Solas rolled his eyes, but followed the excited elf. 

 

Cassandra and Amarantha ran through the halls together, depositing their weapons in the chest Sera had dug them out of, and slipped out of the servants quarters. They snuck over to a chaise that was placed across from several marble carvings and began to talk about them, speaking of the quality of the detail, just in time for someone to pass by and notice them. The man nodded to them, asked if they were enjoying themselves. Amarantha nodded. 

 

“I cannot express how exquisite the Winter Palace is,” she said with a sweetness that made her inwardly cringe, “I simply cannot stop admiring it.” 

 

“I’m sure the Empress will be glad to hear it,” the gentlemen said and with a bow, he walked off. The two women slumped against each other. 

 

“That was close,” Cassandra said. Amarantha agreed. 

 

“My poor heart is racing.” 

 

A bell rang then, echoing throughout the hall. “Ugh,” Cassandra groaned, “We have to go.” 

 

Amarantha stood, dusting off her coat even as it looked pristine as ever. Vivienne had charmed the outfits with magic that prevented stains, and the blood and dust had rolled off her clothing like water. Never had such vanity been so useful, Amarantha thought as she brushed her hair back and pocketed the handkerchief stained with her blood. 

 

“Is your ear-” 

 

“I’m fine,” Amarantha said, “It barely stings.” 

 

Nodding, they walked together arm in arm toward the ballroom, Cassandra let her go to venture over to Cullen and Varric to inform them of what was going on. Amarantha stood nearby, waiting until the bell rang a second time - “To be fashionably late is essential,” Vivienne had said. Amarantha didn’t understand it, but she bided her time until the bell rang once more, then entered the ballroom, where several pairs of eyes greeted her with interest and nods of approval. 

 

She had only taken a few steps when her path was blocked by the Grand Duchess Florianne. “Inquisitor,” the woman said, and Amarantha bowed in respect. 

 

“What can I do for you, My Lady?” 

 

“You can dance with me,” the woman said, holding out her arm. Amarantha glanced from the appendage to the woman’s face, and forced herself to stay still. She had hoped to get through the evening without dancing, but it seemed that that particular nightmare was now coming true. She took Florianne’s arm and smiled sweetly. 

 

“I would be delighted to share a dance with you. I hope my skill is up to par.” 

 

Florianne laughed gracefully, “Oh I have no doubt of your skill, Inquisitor.” 

 

They entered the ballroom together, and all eyes seemed to shift to them. Amarantha swallowed thickly, but held her head high as Josephine had instructed, and said a silent prayer of thanks when the music began and it was a dance she was relatively well-experienced in. 

 

They danced together, Amarantha leading, counting in her head even as she tried to maintain conversation with the Grand Duchess. She could not misstep here. 

 

“I believe we are both concerned by the actions of a certain individual,” Florianne mused aloud. “But tell me. What do you know of our little war? You are Dalish, surely most of your kind do not trouble themselves with the wars of men.” 

 

“Even the Dalish have heard of what happens in the empire,” Amarantha replied, moving lightly to the music, “Your influence is too great to be missed.” 

 

“I sometimes forget the world outside the Imperial Court,” she confessed meekly, “It took great effort to arrange tonight’s negotiations. Yet I fear that the blackest form of treason might yet be committed. The safety of the empire is at stake. Surely you understand this.” 

 

“I do. And it is of great concern to me as well.” 

 

“I am relieved,” Florianne sighed. “For fear rules greater than any empires ever shall.” She allowed Amarantha to pull her close to her as they fell into the waltz. “I also am aware that you and your company have been all through the palace. Yet I cannot figure you out. You are a curiosity. And perhaps a concern to others.” 

 

“And am I curiosity or a concern to you, Your Grace?” 

 

Florianne smiled, “I do not yet know. It is difficult to place trust in others when so little is certain.” 

 

“Indeed it is,” Amarantha agreed, “Perhaps it is best to trust no one?” 

 

“A wise choice indeed, Inquisitor,” Florianne said, “For in the Winter Palace, everyone is alone.” 

 

“But one cannot be alone in a more lovely setting.” 

 

“You are a charmer, trained with the best of them,” Florianne praised, “But do not misunderstand me. We both know the party of whom I speak. I believe an attack will come tonight, and we both know a certain gentlemen is behind it. I urge you to stop him, please. I have instructed one of my servants to give some information to your spymaster. Use it wisely.” 

 

The dance ended and the two women bowed to each other before going their separate ways. Florianne moved through the crowd, speaking softly with a gentlemen who had approached her while Amarantha moved up the stairs and away from the prying eyes of the court. Josephine moved upon her in an instant. 

 

“They will be talking about that for  _ months _ !” She declared, clapping her hands together, “Well done, Inquisitor.” 

 

Amarantha flushed, “I survived, and that’s all that matters. Where is Leliana?” 

 

Josephine motioned behind her and with a brief squeeze of her hand turned to find the spymaster who was waiting for her. “I assume you know I have news.” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Good. The royal wing garden. The captain of Gaspard’s army.” 

 

“Solas and Sera are looking for information.” 

 

“They have provided much,” Leliana said. “Allow me to brief you.” 

 

She did, and Amarantha struggled to keep her expression neutral as Leliane recounted what Solas, Sera, and the others had uncovered. Each member of the peace talks, Gaspard, Celene, and Briala all had done awful things to prepare for tonight’s results, and it seemed that all three were eager to see the other two fall to scandal and disgrace. Solas had saved a young elven woman in Celene’s chambers and had convinced her to testify against Briala who had sent her there. Cole had found a man tied up and asked if he would like to help by revealing what happened to him. Sera had found so many letters of scandal that it seemed impossible, and between the charm exhibited by Bull, Varric, and Dorian enough gossip had been collected to use for years to come. 

 

“This is ridiculous,” Amarantha sighed in annoyance at the absurdity of it all, “Alright. I’m going to find the guard. Hopefully he’ll give us more information.” 

 

“Good luck. Solas and Sera are waiting for you. I believe Varric is joining as well. Something about his hands cramping from signing so many autographs.” 

 

“He’s certainly had a rough night,” Amarantha said with a shake of her head as she moved off. Sera had been in charge of moving weapons, so hopefully the girl had retrieved her own as well. As she walked, she paused at the sight of a burst of light, and looked over to see Amaryllis sitting on a chaise, with several noblemen and women surrounding her, holding a ball of fire in her hand. Amarantha blanched at the sight and started to rush forward, but paused when Amaryllis made the flame disappear, then reappear in the other hand. She lifted her hand and placed the ball of fire on her head, balancing it there and amazing the crowd as it did not burn her nor scorch her hair. The crowd cheered and clapped, and deciding that perhaps her sister knew exactly what she was doing, Amarantha moved on. 

 

She met the others at the doorway, once more being handed her daggers. “You are disturbingly good at moving these throughout the palace unnoticed,” she told Sera. The girl grinned, hands on her hips. 

 

“Damn right I’m good. What’s next, Quizzy?” 

 

“Royal wing gardens. Someone there has information.” 

 

“Sounds suspicious,” Varric said. Amarantha nodded. 

 

“Extremely so.” 

 

The author gestured in front of him. “Then lead the way.” 

 

They moved through, the rooms, each unlocked door a testament to Cole’s impressive skill until they reached the garden proper. They walked out, Amarantha freezing as her mark sparked through her glove and a closed rift hovered before them in the air. The grounds were filled with Venatori agents, their bows pointed directly at the foursome, and above them on the balcony overlooking the garden stood- 

 

“Florianne.” 

 

“Inquisitor. How nice of you to join us. I hoped you wouldn’t be able to resist meddling.” 

 

“What can I say?” Amarantha said, holding her hand behind her back to try to hide the mark, “I’m just so intrigued by the ways of men. I couldn’t help but want to know everything. Including why you’re mixed up in all this.” 

 

“Mixed up? Hardly. This is all by design. But I must thank you for walking into my trap so willingly. Though it pains me that we shall not get to share one last dance.” 

 

“Oh, yes. A real pity. And I practiced so hard for tonight.” There was no more room for neutrality and clever wit. The woman had exposed herself, and there was no respect to be had here. Grand Duchess or not, the woman had revealed herself to be nothing more than another fool swayed by power. 

 

Florianne laughed. “You could almost be Orlesian…..were it not for those ears, perhaps.” 

 

“I’d rather have pointy ears than a black heart.” 

 

Florianne made an exaggerated wince. “Oh. Harsh words from a woman about to be dead.” She smiled, “It is a pleasure to know that I will have been responsible for the death of the Inquisitor  _ and  _ Celene.” 

 

“Why do you want to kill Celene?” Amarantha already knew. The rift had been enough of a hint to make her understand just whose side Florianne was on. 

 

“Corypheus demanded it,” the woman said, confirming Amarantha’s suspicions. “He will be so pleased that I managed to defeat you as well.” 

 

“Tell Corypheus he’s going to have to try a lot harder than this,” Amarantha said, “He keeps throwing punches, but he’s yet to knock me down.” 

 

Florianne hummed. “Yes, well. This  _ punch _ shall be the final blow. All I need is to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike at Celene. A shame you shall not be there to see my victory.” She glanced down to her men. “Kill her. Bring me the marked hand as proof.” 

 

She turned and threw her hand up behind her, “It was a pleasure, Inquisitor.” 

 

The men unleashed their arrows and the group jumped out of the way to dodge. One swiped Varric on the arm, and while the fabric did not rip from the spell on the material, he felt blood begin to pour from his arm. “Damn it!” He cried, loading Bianca and firing rapidly at the men. Amarantha threw her hand up to the Fade, ripping it open and releasing the demons that lingered on the other side. They appeared and she balled her hand into a fist. 

 

“I have had enough with these stupid nobles and their foolish backstabbing,” she cried, “Halam sahlin!” A burst of green shot out of her hand, sweeping across the garden and incinerating the demons in a single blow. Throwing her hand up, she yanked the rift shut, and turned to the others, shoulders moving rapidly as she breathed heavily. “This is ridiculous,” she snapped. 

 

“What are you going to do?” Solas asked, gripping his staff, watching Amarantha with wide, impressed eyes. 

 

“I’m going to stop that horrid woman from murdering Celene and throwing Orlais into further chaos,” she said, turning her head to the right a moment later at the sound of muffled shouting. She followed it to a bush where a man was tied up, no doubt Gaspard’s man. He was quick to rat Gaspard out, saying that Gaspard had offered him triple his usual pay to come here. Amarantha asked if he would testify and the man agreed. 

 

“Good,” she said, “Find Commander Cullen. I will call on you when I need you.” She turned to the others. “Let’s go.” 

 

She marched back toward the ballroom, the others following behind her, quickly. Varric held his arm with his other hand, the slice stinging horribly. Amarantha stopped at the door that led to the main floor, took a breath, and counted to ten. Once she was calm, she moved back inside and the others followed, knowing that it hardly mattered now whether they were seen sneaking about. It was over. 

 

Amarantha was caught by Josephine, Cullen, and  Leliana, who looked at her with concern. “Thank the Maker you’re all right,” Cullen said, resting a hand on her arm carelessly, then noticed a small amount of blood on her hair. “ _ Are  _ you all right?” 

 

“Fine,” Amarantha said reassuringly, “But I’m ending this now. Where is Celene?” 

 

“She’s about to give a speech,” Leliana said. 

 

“Good. We need to detain Florianne. She’s working for Corypheus,” Amarantha said softly, “Get your soldiers ready. I’m going to have a word with her.” 

 

“There isn’t much time,” Cullen protested, but Amarantha gave them all a look. 

 

“I’m not letting any more blood happen shed tonight,” she said in a tone that left no room for argument. “This madness has gone on long enough.” Without giving them a chance to argue, Amarantha moved to the ballroom floor, which she crossed with more confidence than she’d felt all evening. That confidence was fueled by anger, frustration, and disgust. This was the game that men played? 

 

“I was hoping for one last dance, Your Grace,” Amarantha called loud and clear, unable to help the flutter of satisfaction that ran through her when Florianne’s body tensed at the sound of her voice. The room grew quiet around them, and Florianne turned, her mask hiding the fear in her eyes. 

 

“Inquisitor,” she said through her teeth. 

 

“Everyone is watching,” Amarantha said a little more softly, “Remember to smile. This is your party, after all. It would be a shame if everyone thought you had lost control.” Her voice was stern, unwavering, fueled by the frustration and anxiety that had been bubbling within her since she’d arrived to this beautiful, but cruel place. For all it’s splendor, there was no love here. No compassion, no mercy. It’s beauty was hollow, as shallow as the people who lined its halls. Beneath the surface of the ornate decor, the elaborate tapestries and the marble floors lay hidden agendas, dirty secrets, and far too much blood. For all that Amarantha had admired the place, in the span of a few hours she had come to see what it really was: a mask that hid corruption and wickedness in its heart. 

 

Amarantha stepped forward, up the stairs like an animal stalking its prey. Her cloak flowed out behind her, her boots clicked on the marble, echoing around them ominously. 

 

“As always, I am delighted to speak with you, Inquisitor,” she said loudly, trying one last painful effort to keep up appearances. 

 

“I am pleased to hear it,” Amarantha said, “Especially when we last spoke you had men pointing arrows at me, telling me you merely needed to keep me out of the ballroom long enough to strike. When you failed to have me killed, I thought I’d return for one final dance; after all, I practiced very hard.” 

 

The silent crowd began to murmur amongst themselves, and the sound seemed to terrify Florianne. Amarantha continued, “I was so quick to fall out of your good graces. But I am not the only one. You’ve framed your brother for the murder of a council emissary.” That caused more murmurs, and out of the corner of her eye Amarantha saw Celene and Gaspard exchange glances. 

 

“Just think, your brother, the council, Celene, all your enemies under one roof. What could be better?” 

 

Florianne stepped back, but smiled. “Quite a story,” she said, “But you have no proof.” 

 

“I’m sure the Inquisitor has proof if she is willing to make this public,” Celene spoke up from where she looked over them. Beside her Gaspard nodded in agreement. Florianne’s face fell. 

 

“You cannot believe this woman’s lies!” She cried, turning to look at her brother, “Gaspard?” 

 

The man remained silent, instead choosing to turn his back to his sister. Slowly, the woman sank to the floor, defeated. Amarantha looked up the left staircase where Cullen and three soldiers were waiting. She motioned. “Take her away.” 

 

The soldiers moved forward at once, grabbing Florianne as she openly wept, and moved her out of the ballroom, her cries echoing long after the large door had slammed shut. Letting out a breath, Amarantha turned to look up at Celene whose expression remained neutral. “Inquisitor,” she said, “If you please?” 

 

Nodding, she moved up the stairs, past Cullen who gripped her hand for a brief moment, and then let her go. Amarantha followed Celene out to the balcony north of the ballroom, where Gaspard and Briala arrived a moment later. 

 

“Your sister attempted regicide in front of the entire court,” Briala huffed, “Charming.” 

 

“You’re the spymaster,” Gaspard countered, coming to stand beside the Inquisitor as if he expected her to take his side, “Surely you knew.” 

 

The two continued to bicker for several moments before Amarantha cleared her throat. 

 

“You realize that all three of you are guilty?” She said, having no patience any longer. “Gaspard, you were planning a coup. Empress Celene, you lured Gaspard in the hopes he’d do something foolish and you could take him out for treason. And Briala,” she said turning to the elf, “Murdered your ambassadors and forged letters.” 

 

Briala was the first to speak, though her voice was weak, “Even if what you say is true, you can’t touch me.” 

 

“Oh but I can,” Amarantha said, crossing her arms, “What do you think our people will say if they found out you and Celene were lovers when she burned Halamshiral’s alienage,” she glanced at Celene without kindness at that. 

 

All three had the decency to look ashamed. Briala glanced away, fiddling with her hands, Celene crossed her arms and looked skyward, and Gaspard huffed, hands going to his hips. At last Celene spoke. “You’ve made your point, Inquisitor. What do you want?” 

 

“I want Corypheus destroyed,” Amarantha said simply, “And I know that this civil war must end. These petty squabbles are inconsequential when the fate of the entire world is at stake. The three of you are brilliant, capable leaders. Imagine what you could do if you stopped fighting and actually worked together.” 

 

“You want us all to work together?” Celene gasped, “You just now pointed out our betrayals of each other.” 

 

“Then you’re all equally guilty and can start fresh now. No more fighting each other. Focus on the real enemy.” 

 

The three looked at each other, each of them nodding in turn. “Very well, Inquisitor,” Celene said, “For the sake of us all, we will unite.”

  
  



	26. Discovery (Halamshiral, Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She felt like a princess, like something out of a novel and though the rest of the ball had been one tense moment after another, this moment was perfect and she never wanted it to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one has also been posted, so be sure to read that first. 
> 
> Slight smut toward the end of the chapter for Cullen and Amarantha and the BEGINNINGS OF VARRIC x CASSANDRA HOLD ONTO YOUR BUTTS.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Discovery (Halamshiral, Part 2) 

 

The announcement had been expected as a general rule, though the details had been uncertain. So it was unsurprising to the guests that Celene approached the northern railing that overlooked the ballroom with the declaration that a solution had been reached. What had come as a surprise was when Amarantha, Briala, and Gaspard joined her, and Celene announced that the three would be putting aside their differences, and Gaspard and Briala would both hold newly appointed positions in the Empress’ cabinet. Briala declared a union between men and elves to defeat Corypheus, while Gaspard spoke of uniting with his cousin for the good of their people and that the war was over. Celene declared support for the Inquisition, and Amarantha stepped forward to graciously accept the alliance and encourage the people that together, Thedas would prevail over the evil that threatened its very existence. 

 

With that done, Celene declared the festivities to continue, and with a curt nod to her party, declared that she was in need of wine. Her ladies-in-waiting appeared almost by magic and handed her a glass, speaking in hushed whispers of how pleased they were for their mistress. Briala crossed her arms, a sad smile on her face, and turned away. She stopped short when Cole appeared in front of her. 

 

“I found this,” the boy said, and Amarantha stepped up to them to watch Cole. He handed Briala a locket, carved with elven design. “It’s full of memories and pain. It was with the Empress’ things, but its hurt matches yours.” 

 

“It was mine,” Briala whispered, taking the locket from the boy’s hands, “How did you-” 

 

“Cole likes to help,” Amarantha said as she came up behind Briala, “He hates to see people in pain.” 

 

“You should talk to her,” Cole said softly, “She hurts too.” 

 

Briala looked stricken, glancing from the locket to the Inquisitor to Cole. “We won’t say a word,” Amarantha promised, “This is a personal matter; one that you should address on your own.” 

 

Briala clutched the locket to her chest, head bowed and breathing heavy. “Thank you,” she whispered, “Rarely do I find such kindness in court. It is quite refreshing.” With that she turned and walked in the direction Celene had gone. Once she rounded the corner, Amarantha turned back to Cole. 

 

“Meddler,” she teased. 

 

“Is that….good?” Cole asked, hands hanging loose at his sides. 

 

“It’s out of your hands now,” Amarantha said, “But yes. I think tonight your meddling was a very good thing.” 

 

“Good.” 

  
  


\---------------------------------

 

The ball was in full swing once more, the tension of the evening lifted and an air of celebration reigning supreme. Amarantha was pleased to see such joy among the people, but she was entirely too exhausted of being passed from one person to the next and was desperate for a breath of air and some quiet. She looked for Cullen but couldn’t find him and so she slipped out onto a balcony alone and leaned against the railings. A moment later, there was the sound of a knock on the stone, and Amarantha suppressed a groan. 

 

“Well done, Inquisitor,” the sultry voice of Morrigan breathed as she swayed onto the balcony. Amarantha turned. 

 

“You played no small part tonight,” Amarantha said simply, “I owe you my thanks.” 

 

“Your thanks is not needed, but appreciated,” Morrigan replied lightly, “I shall not keep you; I merely wished to inform you that the Empress has requested I join the Inquisition to relay my….expertise on the arcane.” 

 

Amarantha arched a brow. “Oh?” 

 

“I find the Inquisition a valuable institution. I would be honored to provide my services there for My Lady.” 

 

“Remind me to introduce you to Solas, then. He is our resident arcane master.” 

 

“I trust you will find my knowledge varying and informative,” Morrigan assured her, “Shall I let My Lady know I will be joining you in Skyhold?” 

 

It was probably a decision best presented to the council, but Amarantha had to admit she was grateful for the assistance Morrigan had played. Her role had been small but no less important to be sure, but Amarantha knew that every ally gained was one less for Corypheus to try and take. 

 

Holding out her hand, she smiled, “The Inquisition welcomes you, Lady Morrigan.” 

 

Morrigan took her hand and squeezed gently. “I am delighted,” she said, then let go of Amarantha’s hand, “And now I shall leave you. I believe your presence is desired by another party.” She nodded toward the door where Cullen stood close by, clearly trying to watch for when Amarantha was finished, but not close enough to pry. Amarantha couldn’t help her flush, which did not go unnoticed by Morrigan. “Ah,” she breathed coyly, “A personal matter. I shall not detain you then.” She exited the balcony, stopping to smile coyly at Cullen, then disappeared. 

 

Cullen wasted no time joining Amarantha, who moved into his open arms with renewed energy. He held her close, arms wrapped protectively around her and she buried her head into his chest, snuggling as close as she could, sighing heavily. “It is so good to see you,” she whispered, suddenly feeling exhaustion take over her. Cullen supported her weight with ease, swaying lightly where they stood. 

 

“And you as well,” he whispered, “Maker I’m glad you’re all right.” His hand lifted to brush at her ear, causing her to wince. “What happened?” 

 

“Briala,” Amarantha whispered, “I was in the way of her target, and she wasn’t about to let him get past.” 

 

“I hope she apologized,” Cullen grumbled, leaning down to press a kiss to the small wound. Amarantha giggled. 

 

“So protective.” 

 

He hummed in response, holding her tighter. “I must confess, I’m proud of you.” 

 

“Why?” Amarantha asked, pulling away just enough to look up at him. They probably shouldn’t have been so close together in such a public place- the balcony was by no means private- but neither seemed concerned. Cullen couldn’t stop holding on to her, and Amarantha was desperate for his solid strength to help keep her grounded. 

 

“You managed to charm the entire court,” he began, “Stopped a civil war,  _ and _ convinced three feuding leaders to work together.” He ran a hand down her arm, “It may not have been the outcome I expected, but let no one ever tell you that you aren’t a peacemaker of extraordinary talent.” 

 

“Thank you,” she said, heart bursting with love at his words, “Cullen…” 

 

Unable to express herself any other way, she reached up and brushed her lips against his. He responded happily, the gesture soft and light, a whisper that left Amarantha feeling as if she could fly. She broke away, and smiled up at him lovingly. Behind them, the music changed from a jovial jig to a soft, haunting waltz. “I’ve only danced once tonight,” Amarantha whispered then, running her hands up Cullen’s arms, “It’s a shame all Josie’s work has gone to waste.” 

 

At that Cullen chuckled. “I do believe I promised to dance with you,” he said, “I’ve rejected countless offers tonight. There is no one I would rather dance with than you,” he paused and then added sheepishly, “Even if my skill leaves much to be desired.” 

 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Amarantha said as they took up the proper position and began to waltz on the balcony. It was like a dream, Amarantha thought dazedly as Cullen twirled her under the moonlight. He looked so handsome, almost regal, and she’d never felt more elegant and beautiful than she did in the clothing Vivienne had designed. She felt like a princess, like something out of a novel and though the rest of the ball had been one tense moment after another,  _ this _ moment was perfect and she never wanted it to end. 

 

\-----------------------------------

  
  


In one of the more private rooms to the south of the ballroom, Varric grumbled, trying his best to wrap his arm with a bandage he’d bribed one of the servant girl’s to get him. The cut wasn’t bad, merely stung like hell, and he cursed as he tried to wrap the damn thing one-handed. The magic on the coat had prevented blood from seeping through the fabric, but it hadn’t stopped Varric from feeling blood trickle down his arm with each heavy beat of his heart. He’d lingered for as long as possible before stealing away, and he could hear from the laughs and chatter that echoed the halls that he was very much alone with his suffering. 

 

He managed to get the bandage around once more before it slipped out of his grip and he cursed again. 

 

“Language, Varric,” a thick, accented voice said from behind him. He glanced back to see Cassandra standing there, holding a bottle of something that definitely didn’t belong among snotty nobles. 

 

“Well, it hurts,” he griped, “And until a minute ago, no one was around to hear my foul mouth.” 

 

“Which also means no one was around to help you,” Cassandra said, pushing away from the entryway to approach Varric. She knelt on the floor in front of him, swatted at his hands when he tried to protest, and unwound the bandage. She pulled the cork out of the bottle with her teeth, then poured some of it on his arm, which caused Varric to snarl and curse again. 

 

“Damn, Seeker, you aren’t a very gentle healer.” 

 

She shoved the bottle to his uninjured hand. “Hush and drink.” With a chuckle, Varric obeyed. 

 

“So how’d you find me?” He asked, interrupting Cassandra when she tried to speak. “Wait, let me guess. Sprout.” 

 

“She’s a meddlesome little thing, isn’t she?” 

 

“Yeah, but she’s got the adoration of over half the people here. Balance a fireball on your head and the crowd just eats out of your hands.” 

 

“She was able to get some surprisingly good information,” Cassandra mused, “Several affairs, something about a bastard child, oh, and Lady Greer- a woman from my childhood whom I despise is apparently in financial ruin because her husband found out she was having an affair and has since cut her off from all their money.”  

 

“My, my,” Varric clicked his tongue, “What scandalous people we’re surrounding ourselves with. It all seems to ridiculous to be real..” 

 

Cassandra hummed in agreement. “Indeed. Perhaps one of your serials would be more fitting,” she agreed as she tucked the frayed end of the cloth into the rest of the bandage, and patted Varric’s arm. “There. All better.” 

 

“Why, Seeker, I’ve never felt better,” he said dryly. Cassandra said nothing and jerked the bottle from his hand, tilting it back and taking a long swig. 

 

“May I stay?” She asked, and Varric noted the slight hesitancy in her voice, “It has been a long night, I deteste balls.” 

 

“If it weren’t for the fact that you just helped me, I’d make a crude remark but- ah hell, I’m gonna make it anyway, Seeker- ow!” 

 

He winced as she smacked his uninjured shoulder and sat down beside him. “Hush. You are more pleasant when you are silent.” 

 

“And you’re more pleasant when you’re not beating the shit out of me,” He replied as he rubbed his arm.  

 

Cassandra harumphed and crossed one leg over the other. She clutched the bottle in her hand closest to Varric and after a few minutes of silence he reached out and took it. “So,” he said after taking a particularly large gulp, “Sprout sent you after me.” 

 

“She said she saw you clutching your arm. I assumed something happened and came after you.” 

 

“You know she found you for a reason, right?” 

 

Cassandra side-eyed Varric. “What do you mean?” 

 

“The kid’s trying- rather obviously and poorly I might add- to set us up. I shouldn’t admit this, but it was her idea that I write that chapter as an apology.” 

 

“It was?” She was looking at him in surprise, but there seemed to be no hurt in her gaze. Varric nodded. 

 

“Yeah. Told some story about how her parents always fought as teenagers and that meant they cared for each other. She figured since we fight all the time, the same conditions applied.” 

 

“Hmm,” Cassandra remarked quietly. After a moment she spoke again. “Amarantha has mentioned it as well.”

 

“What... _ us _ ?” 

 

“Yes. She doesn’t do it often, but I think perhaps she and her sister are of the same mindset.”  

 

“Well I’ll be damned. More than one person thinks we’d work. That’s almost ridiculous.” 

 

Cassandra nodded, but the gesture was weak. “Yes it is.” 

 

Varric studied her for a moment, curious, then continued, trying to keep his tone light. “I mean, it’s not  _ implausible _ . But it’s definitely unlikely.” 

 

“Quite.” 

 

The dwarf shrugged, looking at the statues that surrounded them. “Could be interesting, though.” 

 

That drew Cassandra’s attention sharply to him. “You cannot be serious.” 

 

Varric frowned. “No. Just theorizing.” 

 

“Well, stop theorizing,” she huffed, though it was without her usual frustration. She seemed more… flustered? Was that the word for it? Varric had plenty of words to describe every situation, but he wasn’t certain what word was needed to describe the Seeker at this present moment. 

 

Trying to play off his sudden, strange feelings that he dare not name, he joked, “Hey come on, Seeker, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.” He gestured to himself with a laugh, and while it sounded jovial, he didn’t quite feel it. 

 

“I neither want to knock nor try you,” she huffed and- were her cheeks  _ red _ ? 

 

“You sure about that, Seeker?” He asked, nudging her with his good arm. She didn’t respond, and Varric frowned, leaning closer to her. “Cassandra?” 

 

She looked away, heaved a long sigh, and whispered, “No. I am not sure.” 

 

_ Well _ , Varric thought, stunned to outward silence,  _ shit _ . 

 

“Indeed.” 

 

Varric winced. “Said that out loud, then, I guess.” 

 

She nodded stiffly. “You did.” 

 

They sat in silence for a few more moments. Finally Varric glanced over at her, surprised and relieved to see that she was eyeing him from the corner of her eye as well. “We should probably talk about this, then.” 

 

“We could,” she agreed, “Or we could forget I said anything.” 

 

“Oh, I don’t think so!” Varric replied with slight amusement, “Not a lot’s going to make me forget that Cassandra Pentaghast just admitted to-” 

 

“I admitted to nothing.” 

 

“Oh?” Varric replied, “You didn’t?” 

 

“No,” she said. “I expressed…. uncertainty.” 

 

“To-mate-oh, toe-mat-oh.” 

 

“Are you certain then?” She asked suddenly, “That this wouldn’t be a disaster waiting to happen?” 

 

Varric took a moment to consider. “You know,” he said softly, tone serious as he shifted to face her. “I’ve been part of a disaster. It’s the one story I vowed never to tell, but I think it might be time someone hear it. I know what disaster looks like. I’ve looked it straight in the eyes and ran headfirst into it. With not…. the greatest of results.” He shrugged. “But I look at you and I see… potential.” 

 

Cassandra’s brow raised. “Potential?” 

 

“Yeah,” Varric shrugged. “It could be fun. Good. Discovering this… thing… between us.” 

 

She snorted, in spite of herself. “How eloquently put.” 

 

“Yeah, well, It’s been a long night. And I’m injured. I may never walk again.” 

 

“It’s barely a scrape. On your  _ arm _ .” She rolled her eyes, but the smile that was threatening to blossom on her lips told Varric everything he needed to know. With a sudden bout of confidence, he nudged ever so slightly closer to her. 

 

“Regardless; what do you say, Seeker? If you’re not sure it’ll be terrible, and I’m sure it’ll be good, what have we got to lose?” Lifting his hand, he held it out between them, palm up, waiting patiently while she wrestled within herself. 

 

It surprised him when she took his hand without a moment’s hesitation. 

  
  
  
  


\----------------------------------------

 

“There you are!” 

 

Amarantha glanced over her shoulder to see Dorian approach, glass of champagne in his hand and a pleased look on his face. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you my dear Inquisitor,” he said cheerfully, “And here I find you’ve been off with our dashing Commander. You know it’s rude to stay hidden like this. I simply cannot allow it anymore.” 

 

“I’m sorry, Dorian,” Amarantha said as she turned to face her friend. “I was just enjoying the fresh air.” 

 

“There’s air in here,” he dismissed, “Come, it’s not often we have occasion to dance, and I can think of nothing more scandalous than the Inquisitor and a Tevinter mage doing a proper jig in front of a bunch of Orlesian nobles. 

 

“I’d love to,” Amarantha said, “Cullen’s been helping me practice.” She turned and winked at the Commander. 

 

“Oh I’m sure he has,” Dorian said knowingly, offering the Inquisitor his arm. “Come, let us be the talk of the night!” 

 

He led Amarantha away, and when she glanced back at Cullen, he was simply shaking his head in amusement, but following them inside. Dorian led her to the floor where several other couples were dancing and they began to dance, the steps a little quicker than the dance she had shared with Cullen.  Amarantha laughed as she held onto Dorian and tried to remember each steps. She found that, for the first time that evening, she was having fun. 

 

A few minutes later Cullen joined them on the floor with Amaryllis and they picked up the dance, Cullen leading the small elf girl in the steps. She was grinning widely, her curls bouncing as they danced around the floor, and Amarantha felt her breath catch at the sight of the two people she loved most carrying on so freely. 

 

“I know that look,” Dorian said knowingly as he eyed the Commander and Amaryllis, “You are positively smitten.” 

 

“Can you blame me?” Amarantha asked as Dorian led her around the floor, “He doesn’t judge me. He accepted my sister. He listens. He…” 

 

“Careful, or you’ll start spouting love poems and I haven’t the stomach for those.” He pulled her a little closer and bent down to whisper in her ear, “He is a lucky man to have your love.” 

 

“You have it too,” Amarantha replied earnestly, “You know that, right Dorian?” 

 

“Oh dear, you’re making me blush,” he said with a smirk. “I’m happy for you.” 

 

“Are you happy, Dorian?” 

 

Dorian glanced over his shoulder, eyes settling on Bull who was talking animatedly with Blackwall, Solas, and Vivienne. Amarantha followed his gaze, then glanced back at him expectantly. 

 

“You know,” he murmured, “I think I am.” 

 

“Good,” Amarantha replied. “I hope you know you make him happy too.” 

 

Dorian glanced back at the Qunari, who was watched the pair dance. No one else would be privy to the glance, but Dorian recognized the soft look instantly. 

 

“Oh, hush, you,” he said, turning back to Amarantha, who was beaming. 

 

Eventually Solas cut in, and Dorian made his way over to Bull. The music had softened, a hint that soon the ball would be coming to an end, and Solas took the opportunity of the slow melody to spin Amarantha around the room, oblivious to onlookers who seemed surprised at the Inquisitor’s acceptance of the elf’s offer to dance. 

 

“I once again find myself impressed by you,” he said, his voice melodic and soft, a comfort that reminded her of home. “You show a wisdom and grace that I did not expect from someone of Dalish upbringing.” 

 

“Always so harsh,” Amarantha teased her elder, “But you have my Grandmother to thank for that, I think. Her influence runs deeper than even I realize sometimes. She always wanted us to know more.” 

 

“You always speak highly of her,” Solas remarked, “I cannot help but wonder what she might say of you.” 

 

Amarantha looked away, “I don’t know.” 

 

Solas smiled, and moved his hand, halting their steps, to tilt her chin so that she looked at him once more. “I do.” 

 

“You do?” 

 

“Of course. She would tell me that you are her greatest accomplishment, and that she could not be more proud of all you have done. For your people, and for the world.” 

 

It would be inappropriate to do so, but Amarantha hardly cared. She threw her arms around Solas, eyes squeezed shut. “Thank you, Solas.” 

 

He returned the embrace, then stepped away, keeping only her gloved hand in his. Lifting it, he placed a kiss to her knuckles. “I do not consider elves to be my people,” he remarked, “I have not for some time. Yet I find myself thinking if more were like you, I should be honored to call them mine.” 

 

With that he turned and moved away, nodding respectfully at Cullen-who was currently dancing with Josephine- as he passed. Cullen returned the gesture, then led himself and Josie over to Amarantha. Amarantha crossed her arms. “And here I thought you didn’t dance, Commander?” 

 

“I may have demanded he dance with me,” Josie said sheepishly, “It’s been so long since I’ve been to a soiree such as this.” 

 

“I’m pleased you’re enjoying it,” Amarantha replied, “I for one hope to never do this again.” 

 

“Oh nonsense!” The trio looked over to see the plump form of Lady Ellis approaching them, a goose feather fan fluttering in her gloved hand, “You were a delight tonight! I can hardly recall a ball in which I’ve had a better time! You have a real gift, my dear Inquisitor!” Lady Ellis laughed, a deep bellied sort of squawk that was both amusing and annoying. 

 

“Thank you, Lady Ellis,” Amarantha said with effort. “I am pleased to know your evening was enjoyable.” 

 

“Oh absolutely!” She declared, “What with all this fussing and fighting I’m just surprised we got through the night at all. But we did and it was a treat! I feel quite youthful, I must say, and could possibly remain here all night!” 

 

Amarantha wanted to protest that, but Josie stepped forward instead, her hand brushing Amarantha’s to silently assure her she had a handle on things. Josie was a master of her craft, and could often anticipate someone’s needs before they were voiced. “That is a delightful prospect, Lady Ellis,” Josephine said diplomatically, “But I fear our Inquisitor is tired after such a long evening. And we have an early start back to Skyhold tomorrow. We implore you to stay and enjoy the festivities, but I fear I must steal away our guest to prepare for our return trip.” 

 

“Oh!” Ellis cried, “Oh of course how inconsiderate of me! Of course you must be weary my dear. You first real ball after all has been quite eventful! I shall call my servants and they will prepare the carriages at once!” 

 

Relief flooded Amarantha. “Thank you, Lady Ellis,” she replied, then glanced at Josie when Ellis had turned to find her servants. “Josie I could kiss you.” 

 

Josephine laughed. “Please don’t. That is one rumor I do  _ not _ want to have to deal with.” The girls laughed, and Amarantha turned to Cullen who was standing by, waiting patiently. 

 

“Let’s find my sister and get out of here,” Amarantha said. “I think I can  _ finally _ appreciate your distaste for these affairs.” 

 

“Thank the Maker I’ve talked some sense into  _ someone _ here,” he grumbled, offering her his arm and leading her away to find Amaryllis, who was sitting alone with Cole, observing people as they passed. 

  
  


\--------------------------------

Despite everyone finally having a good time at the palace, everyone had been eager to leave. Cassandra especially had practically flown out the door to the carriage, leaving Amarantha slightly confused by her friend’s behaviour. 

 

Surprisingly, Amaryllis had been the one reluctant to leave. She had enjoyed the ball, finding the Game to be silly but easily conquered. She’d been the talk of several nobles, claiming the wild little Dalish girl exhibited a charm and wit unlike which they’d encountered with so young a person, let alone an elf. Her protests were quickly silenced however, as the moment she was seated in the carriage she succumbed to sleep, curled up against Solas who wrapped an arm around her with a look of fatherly adoration. 

 

Amarantha was too wound up to sleep at present, her mind running through everything that had happened that night. She’d never felt such a vast array of emotions at once: fear, anger, annoyance, awe, and contempt. It had truly been a remarkable night, though she was grateful it was behind her. She had landed a key victory in the fight against Corypheus, and it filled her with a sense of pride to know that despite his attempts to break her, so far she had succumbed. 

 

Amarantha offered to carry her sister to the girl’s room when they reached Lady Ellis’ mansion an hour later, but Solas protested, saying that he did not mind looking after his protege. He scooped her into his arms and carried her inside toward Amaryllis’ room. She’d been offered one of her own, and though Amaryllis liked staying with her sister, having a room in a fancy mansion had been too much of an adventure to pass up, so she’d agreed, though she would now be sorely disappointed to know she’d missed out on enjoying it due to her exhaustion. 

 

The others trudged out of their carriages, bidding cheerful but exhausted ‘good nights’ to each other, and went their separate ways to their rooms. Cullen walked with Amarantha to her own room, where Vivienne had worked her magic earlier that evening- a time that seemed so distant now- and they lingered outside her door. 

 

“Thank you for everything, Cullen,” she whispered, not wanting to leave just yet. If she did, she would change out of her clothing and wipe off the makeup and go back to being her normal self. A small part of her didn’t want it to end just yet, especially when Cullen was looking at her with such love and desire. “I couldn’t do this without you.” 

 

“Of course you could,” he replied, his voice soft, as if they were sharing a secret, “But you don’t have to.” 

 

She reached up to cup his face, running her fingers over the stubble of his beard and through his hair. His eyes shut at the sensation and he pressed closer to her, her back bumping against the door as he held her tight. “Amarantha,” he whispered, the sensation of her fingers brushing the back of his neck sending a shiver down his spine, “You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. The way you handled yourself tonight, playing innocent even as you manipulated every event to our favor…” he breathed deeply, his breath against her lips, “I am in awe of you.” 

 

“Cullen,” she sighed, eyes shining as she gazed upon him. For all the sorrow that had been brought upon her since this whole mess began, she could regret none of it. Not when it had brought her Cullen. She could never regret Cullen. 

 

“Amarantha,” he whispered, then met her gaze and lifted a hand to cup around the back of her head. His eyes were soft but filled with apprehension, and after a moment he whispered, “Ar lath ma, vhenan.” 

 

Amarantha blinked once, twice. Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at Cullen in stunned disbelief. “What?” She breathed, the sound of her language on his tongue a beautiful surprise. 

 

“Did I say it right?” He asked quietly, uncertain. “I’ve been practicing.” 

 

Stunned, she nodded. “Yes….say it again.” 

 

Cullen was happy to oblige. “Ar lath ma, vhenan.” 

 

He was pulled to her in an instant, Amarantha’s lips pressing hard against his in a desperate and hungry kiss. Cullen grunted in surprise, a sound that quickly dissolved into a moan as Amarantha pulled him against her, her leg sliding up to wrap around his waist in an effort to bring them closer together. Her mouth moved feverishly, hot and needy against his own as her hands gripped his hair, his shoulders, desperate to cling to as much of him as possible. 

 

Cullen pulled back for a moment, the despondent cry that slipped from Amarantha almost pulling him back to her, but instead he reached around her and twisted the doorknob, and pushed her in as the door swung open with a squeak. Amarantha pushed back once they were inside, slamming Cullen’s back onto the door which pushed it shut, slamming a little louder than they would have liked, but both were too consumed in the other to truly care. Amarantha pressed against him once more, lips trailing a path from his jaw down the side of his throat, and Cullen’s hands ran down her sides, squeezing her hips hard enough that had he been in a more rational frame of mind, it might have concerned him. But he couldn’t get enough of her, needed to be closer to her. They’d danced around each other for some time, never quite having the time to properly indulge in their mutual desire for the other. It was there, palpable between them, and Cullen had known it was only a matter of time before the wound up coils within them would snap, sending them into a flurry of desperation. 

 

He had never been so relieved to succumb to a desire as he was now. 

 

Using his grip on her, he pushed and stepped forward, walking them backwards to the bed, lined with silk sheets laid out especially for the Inquisitor. The cover was lined with pillows of varying shapes and sizes, and When Amarantha flopped onto the bed, some fell off, causing the elf to giggle almost deliriously. She pulled Cullen down over her, his weight heavy but comforting, and found his lips once more, lightly biting at his bottom lip with her teeth and receiving a thrill of pleasure as his hips jerked against her. 

 

“You are so beautiful,” Cullen breathed, his hands running over her appreciatively, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I am so grateful.” He kissed her cheek then, then repeated her earlier action of trailing kisses down her throat and to her chest where the pendant sat on her chest. He brushed the insignia aside as if it meant nothing, but adjusted the coin so that it lay centered on her. He kissed her there, then moved lower, causing Amarantha to squirm against him in pleasure. “A vision,” he said, moving back up to hover over her lips, “I sometimes worry I’ve merely dreamed you up.” 

 

“You are very much awake,” she sighed, reaching up to tug on his dress coat, “And I am very much real.” 

 

He pulled at the buttons, practically ripping the coat off. Tossing it aside, he worked on the golden buttons of Amarantha coat, careful despite his hurry. He had been mesmerized by her in her formal wear, and he was determined to figure out a way to have her wear it again. She slipped out of it, then yanked off the tight-fitting tunic, leaving her chest bare before him once it was over her head and flung across the room. Cullen paused a moment to take in the sight of her. She was small-chested, perfectly fitting in his hand. He caressed her gently, and Amarantha arched under his touch. 

 

“Oh, ma vhenan,” she cried, the first time she’d referred to him by the elvish endearment. He found he liked it coming from her as much as she’d seemed to enjoy hearing it from him. Leaning forward he let his tongue trail over her exposed flesh. 

 

“Emma lath,” he breathed, the words fumbling but sincere, “Ar nuvenin ma.” 

 

Beneath him, Amarantha cried out, the sound of her language on his tongue driving her wild. She arched back, and her hand, which was now gloveless as it had been jerked off when she’d slipped out of the coat, sparked to life, the green crackling and pulsing. Amarantha stiffened at that, the pleasure instantly replaced by distress, but Cullen merely grabbed her hand, kissed the mark, then laced their fingers together. Her hand fell back onto the pillows behind her, grip tightening on Cullen’s hand. 

 

“You have me,” she gasped, “Ir na, Cullen!” 

 

They broke away only long enough to remove the rest of their clothing, then fell back together on the bed, a tangle of limbs and sighs. They held each other fast, hands gripping and scratching in their urgency eager in their discovery of each other. And when they finally found their release, it was with a sigh and a burst of energy that left them enraptured.

 

\-----------------------------------

 

Amarantha was used to sharing a bed. She’d always slept close to her family in her childhood and now that her sister was in Skyhold, they shared a bed in a desperate attempt to regain that familiar, safe feeling. She was used to waking to a small arm in her face or a lag draped over hers, the weight light and barely noticeable. So when she awoke to the feeling of a strong arm wrapped around her waist that prevented her from moving, she felt a momentary panic. 

 

Then she recalled the events from the night before. 

 

Halamshiral. The peace talks masked as a ball that had ended in a strange but hopeful prosperous three-way union between feuding leaders. She remembered her heart fluttering and her stomach churning and she remembered- 

 

“Oh,” she breathed, feeling heat flare up in her cheeks as realization dawned on her. It was still dark outside, the sun not due to rise for a few more hours. They’d returned to the mansion late, and had stayed up even later, but the night had been long indeed, and for once Amarantha was glad of it. She thought back to earlier that night, to Cullen speaking to her elven- no doubt her sister’s doing- and the sound of it driving her wild. She hadn’t thought hearing such simple phrases could move her so, but it had, and she had been wild in her lust, needing Cullen more than she’d ever thought possible. 

 

And it had been wonderful, she mused. She didn’t have much experience in such things; she’d never had a keen interest in it. But with Cullen, she’d wanted it, craved it. And though she had little to compare it to, she was convinced that nothing had ever been more wonderful. She felt a dull ache between her legs, a pleasant reminder of their evening. Sighing, she snuggled closer to him, wiggling her backside against him in an effort to get comfortable, and covered his hand with her own. She’d been woken by a dream, this one simple and meaningless and was eager to return to the warm embrace of sleep. 

 

She was almost there, wavering between two worlds when suddenly Cullen’s grip tightened on her until it was painful. He groaned, then whimpered, and Amarantha didn’t have to wonder what was happening. She pulled his arm off her, sat up to face him, and gently pushed at his chest, trying to rouse him. His eyes snapped open a moment later, gasping for air as if he’d been drowning. 

 

Leaning over quickly, Amarantha lit a candle to illuminate the room, then turned back to Cullen with concern. “It’s okay,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair comfortingly, “You’re awake now.” 

 

His breathing calmed and he let out a long breath and sat up, sheets falling to his waist. “I didn’t mean to wake you-” he said, stopping short when he seemed to realize that they were still together, naked, in the guest room of a gossipy noblewoman. “And I should probably-” 

 

She tugged on his arm, keeping him in place. “You are going to stay right here,” she said, “Let them talk. They already do. What’s important now is you.” 

 

“I’m fine,” Cullen replied, leaning forward and resting his face in his hands. “Just a nightmare.”

 

“I’m familiar,” she whispered, sliding closer and draping her arm over his shoulder and letting her chin rest on the other one. “Wolves, remember?” 

 

“I’d take wolves over…” he sighed and shook his head. “Everything else.” 

 

“I won’t ask you to talk about it unless you want to,” she said, gently tugging him back to lay with her. She leaned against the headboard, pulling the covers to keep her modest, and guided Cullen to settle in her embrace, 

 

“Perhaps it’s best if you  _ did _ know,” he sighed, “I’m sorry I haven’t said anything sooner, but if...this is to be a more frequent encounter-” he was interrupted by Amarantha’s sound of approval and a kiss to his cheek. “-Then I should tell you. I….uh, I have stopped taking lyrium.” 

 

Amarantha glanced down at him, concerned. “What? Why?”  

 

“I don’t want to be a slave to it any longer,” he sighed wearily, “I want to remove everything about that part of my life. I don’t want to be reliant on it any more. I don’t want to be bound by it.” 

 

“And the nightmares are because you’ve stopped?” 

 

“I’ve always had them,” he explained, “Without lyrium they’re worse.”

 

“You’ve mentioned headaches,” Amarantha said, running her fingers through his hair, “Is that-” 

 

“Yes,” Cullen replied, “The withdrawal is….difficult.” 

 

“Why did you not say anything sooner?” She asked, but there was only concern, not anger in her voice. Cullen shrugged against her. 

 

“I didn’t want you to think I was weak. I….feared you would be disappointed to see how much I struggle….I….I’ve asked Cassandra to watch me. If she finds me unfit for duty, I’ve asked her to convince you to find a replacement.” 

 

That stung. To think Cullen wouldn’t confide in her hurt, but she also understood his reasoning. She couldn’t blame him for being so uncertain, but she hoped that she could alleviate that from his mind. The last thing he needed was to worry about her opinion of him.

 

“Cullen, you held me when I received news of my clan. You’ve watched me scream and cry because of-” she stumbled, “Because of Hawke. You’ve seen me at my most vulnerable. How could you ever think I would think less of you for being human?” 

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “Fear, I suppose.” 

 

“Well, no more of that,” she instructed, bending over to place a kiss on his forehead. “I’m proud of you for not taking it, and I’m proud that you told me. But no more secrets, all right? I’ll take Cassandra’s council should it come to it, but I know you’re far stronger than you give yourself credit for. And I’ll help you however you need me to. You just have to ask. Don’t keep me in the dark, okay?” 

 

Cullen turned to look up at Amarantha. “I don’t deserve you,” he breathed, pulling her down for a kiss. She frowned against his lips and leaned back, cradling him close to her. 

 

“Hush,” she chided, “You know that’s not true.” Adjusting the covers around them, she turned away long enough to blow the candle out. “Now,” she said firmly, “Let’s get you back to sleep,” Closing her eyes, she began to sing softly in her language, a soothing song that soon lured them both back to sleep.

 

No more nightmares plagued them that night.  


	27. What Lies Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We couldn't even make it one day..."

Chapter Twenty-Seven: What Lies Ahead 

 

The arrival back to Skyhold was met with cheers of delight. Word had spread quickly about the victory at Halamshiral and the people were joyous at the thought of striking another blow against Corypheus. Instantly everyone was met by people clamouring for attention, and Josephine instantly fell back into her duties by reassuring everyone they would be heard, but first the Inquisitor and advisors needed time to actually get in the gate before making any decisions or remarks on anything. 

 

That appeased most people, and appointments were made to allow those with business to come and speak to Amarantha and Josephine and Cullen. Leliana went to her agents straight away for news, and Cassandra slipped away to the armory for some peace. She would never admit it, but she was overwhelmed, and the chaos of their return had done little to help her mood. 

 

Her thoughts turned then, to more pleasant things. Varric, for instance. It had barely been over a day since they’d admitted to an attraction between the two of them. Cassandra’s hand still tingled from where Varric had held her, and the thought of their quiet musings in one of the small rooms off the grand hall left her heart fluttering in a manner that she found absurd. 

 

_ Leave it to Varric to make me feel like a fool _ , she thought to herself, the idea making her smile despite her attempt to be annoyed. 

 

She was left to her devices for some time and she took the opportunity to simply relax in her small quarters above the armory, contemplating what it meant for her now that she and Varric had- what? An understanding? She wasn’t certain what it was that was happening between them, but she refused to lie to herself and allowed herself to admit that she wanted more. 

 

A knock alerted her to another’s presence in her room and she looked up- slightly disappointed that it wasn’t Varric- to see a recruit standing there nervously. “Seeker Pentaghast,” the young girl said, “The Inquisitor and Lady Montilyet have requested your presence. It’s urgent.” 

 

_ It never ends _ , thought Cassandra as she nodded and stood, making her way toward Josie’s office. As she walked, she saw Varric making himself comfortable at his usual table in the main hall, and they shared a soft smile between them as she passed. Without looking, she could tell that his gaze followed her and she allowed herself to pause long enough at the door to throw another glance at him over her shoulder. He was still looking, and Cassandra felt her traitorous heart once more skip a beat. Suppressing a smile, Cassandra turned and stepped inside. 

 

She made it to the entrance of the office before stopping short, surprised to see Leliana and Vivienne standing there as well. Josie and Amarantha were there too, and when all eyes fell on her she felt a sudden wave of anxiety strike her. This couldn’t be good. 

 

When Cassandra made her place next to Josephine, the ambassador-who was perched on the edge of her desk, 

a letter in her hand and a frown marring her features- sighed. 

 

“Now everyone is here. We can begin.” 

 

Amarantha glanced to Josie, brows furrowed. “Is everything alright?” She asked. Josie shrugged, a gesture that surprised everyone. 

 

“That will depend,” she said, then cleared her throat. “I have received information from the Chantry. They are eager to elect a new Divine. They wanted the Right and Left Hands of Justina to assist but I have already made it clear that neither of you can be spared from your duties. That said,” Josie held the paper out in front of her, “I now have the privilege of informing you that Leliana, Vivienne, and Cassandra have all been named possible candidates for Divine.” 

 

Silence permeated the room. Vivienne smiled a small, smug grin that hinted not only at her delight at being nominated, but her anticipation for it as well. Leliana merely nodded, eyes downcast as she reflected on Justina and what the older woman would have said to this. Cassandra stood still, heart sinking in her chest. Suddenly all the hope that she had built up within her, all the subconscious plans that she had dared to dream in the short amount of time that Varric had become hers, suddenly seemed like impossibilities. 

 

“Is that all?” She asked, hands balling into fists at her sides. 

 

Josie nodded, confused by the reaction. “...Yes?” 

 

‘Very well.” With that, Cassandra turned and marched out of the room. Amarantha glanced to Josie. 

 

“What is going on with her?” 

 

“I’ve no idea,” Josie said, “She’s been strange ever since the ball. But,” she stressed the word, drawing focus back to the conversation at hand, “You are all now aware. This will be a historic event, no matter who takes the Sunburst Throne.” 

 

“Absolutely,” Amarantha agreed, reaching out to look at the letter Josie held. She passed it on without comment and let the elf read it. “Well,” she said. “The Inquisition will support whoever of you is selected. I….confess I don’t know enough about the Chantry to know who would be best suited, but I offer my sincerest congratulations.” 

 

“A most diplomatic answer, Inquisitor,” Vivienne replied, “Thank you.” 

 

“Yes,” Leliana said, “I can hardly believe I might be a choice, and the thought of following in Justina’s footsteps is….”

 

“Daunting?” Amarantha supplied. Leliana smiled, humming her agreement. 

 

“Yes. But I confess I can already think of ways to improve the Chantry. I….must reflect on this. Excuse me.” With that she turned and walked calmly out of the room, Vivienne following a moment later. The two women that were left exchanged glances. 

 

“Well this just got interesting.” 

 

“Indeed,” Josie agreed, “I’m surprised by Cassandra’s reaction.” 

 

“I’ll find her,” Amarantha said, then paused, “Who...who do you think should get the job?” 

 

“Any of them would do the position justice,” Josie said, “Though it will be a shame to lose whoever is chosen, should any of them be elected.” 

 

“Then pray the right one is picked,” Amarantha sighed, “Because I’m certainly at a loss.” 

 

She left then, and went in search of Cassandra. 

 

\---------------------------

 

Cassandra marched sternly through the hall, barely stopping where Varric sat writing to say, “We need to talk. Now.” She marched on, leaving Varric confused by her brisk tone and quick steps. Quickly, he packed up his pages- spending only long enough to make sure they were in order- and followed the Seeker out into the courtyard and toward the armory. Inside there was only one soldier, and the look Cassandra gave him was enough to send him running. 

 

Varric barely missed being run over by the poor recruit and stepped inside the dimly lit and overly warm room to find Cassandra already pacing. 

 

“Whoa, Seeker, what’s going on?” He asked. She paced a few more times, her steps hard and thunderous before she stopped and sank onto a bench, bending over to rest her head on her knees. 

 

“I’m a candidate to be the next Divine,” she said simply. Varric blinked. 

 

“Whoa. Shit. That’s…. a pretty big deal.” 

 

“No shit,” Cassandra cursed, not looking at him. She was slumped over, a position of defeat. Stacking his papers on a nearby stool, Varric moved slowly over to Cassandra. When she didn’t acknowledge him, he sat down beside her, hand hovering midair for a long moment before resting it lightly on her back. “One day,” she murmured, “We couldn’t even make it  _ one day _ !” 

 

“Just our luck, I suppose.” When she didn’t laugh, he moved his hand over her back soothingly. “You’re really not happy.” 

 

Cassandra tensed, then let out a long breath and sat up straight. “I do not know  _ what  _ I am,” she admitted. 

 

“I would think you’d be at least interested in picking up where Justinia left off.” 

 

Cassandra shook her head. “And perhaps, had I been informed of this a few days ago, I might be inclined to agree with you.” 

 

“But…” Varric pressed. 

 

“But,” Cassandra sighed, “That was before…this.” 

 

Varric allowed that to sink in a moment. “So, just to make sure I understand,” he said slowly, “You’re only objection to being the next Divine is that it might put a damper on...whatever it is we have between us?” 

 

She nodded weakly. “I was so happy,” she mused, more to herself than to Varric, “Surprised and uncertain too, but… I had not felt such happiness since… before the Conclave. I shouldn’t have, but I started  _ thinking _ . About a future when Corypheus is defeated and we had time and opportunity to figure this out. To grow it and nurture it into something…” 

 

“Divine?” Varric offered with a half-grin. Cassandra laughed in spite of herself. 

 

“Something like that.” 

 

“Well,” Varric said, shifting to remove his hand from her back to reach down and take her left hand in his, “We’ll still be able to do that.” 

 

“How?” 

 

“Well, we’ve got time now,” he reasoned, “And besides, you’re just a candidate. Nothing’s been decided on yet. Maybe you won’t be elected. Maybe you will. If you do, I’m gonna be honest: that outfit isn’t going to do you any favors.” 

 

“Very funny, Varric.” 

 

“You can’t honestly tell me you think anyone would look good in that thing.” 

 

Pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand, Cassandra groaned but agreed. 

 

“But more seriously,” Varric said, his tone too casual to seem serious, “We don’t know yet. And it’s not like you becoming Divine is going to change how I feel about you.” 

 

“I can’t ask you to go with me,” Cassandra sighed. “If it were to happen. It wouldn’t be fair to you.” 

 

“You know what isn’t fair?” Varric said, his hand squeezing hers, “Waiting years at a time for a letter from someone who you should have let go of a long time ago. I’ve had my share of ‘unfair’ and this isn’t even close to it.” 

 

Cassandra knew what he was alluding to. He didn’t mention her often, but he had at the ball. He’d talked of Bianca, and his struggle with wanting to hold on to what they’d had while realizing that what he had  _ now _ in front of him was… right. He’d loved Bianca, his former flame, but she’d moved on long ago, only calling on Varric when it was convenient for her. Now that he’d seen what it was like to be  _ wanted _ , he wasn’t about to give that up. 

 

“The fact that you even considered my feelings at all is… well, more than I’ve gotten before,” he shrugged. “Besides… think of all the smutty inspiration I could come up with! A naughty serial about a high-up religious leader and her handsome, blasphemous paramour…..it’s got bestseller written all over it!” 

 

Her free hand moved quicker than he had time to anticipate and smacked him hard in the chest. He laughed at that, and caught her hand so that he was holding both of them. “I’m just saying,” he said as he leaned closer to her, “You don’t know if you’ll be elected. And if you are, then we’ll figure that out. And if not, then-” he broke off and shrugged. “I suppose we’ll have our choice of adventures.” 

 

Cassandra found herself a little more at ease. Her shoulders sagged, releasing the tension she’d quickly built up. “I like the sound of that.” 

 

Varric grinned. “Same here.” After a moment he released one hand and moved so that his arm was draped around her, pulling her close to him. She went into his embrace willingly and found that she rather liked the ease in which they were slipping into this relationship. 

 

“Now. Stop worrying and tell me what you’d do if you  _ were _ Divine.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I can think of a few good ideas.” 

 

Cassandra scoffed. “First I’d probably sew your mouth shut so you can’t blaspheme with every second breath.” It was said harshly,  but there was a soft smile on her face and a lightness in her eyes that Varric wasn’t certain he’d seen before. Despite her flurry of nerves he knew she was suppressing with practiced skill, she looked at ease. 

 

“Yeah but if you do that, you’ll be depriving yourself of all the  _ good _ this mouth can do.” 

 

Cassandra lightly pushed at him with her shoulder, grunting in disgust even as her cheeks burned. “Shut up, Varric.” 

 

Varric meant to reply to that, but a timid knock at the door caused both of them to look up to see Amarantha standing there, biting her lip to keep from grinning. “You stormed out so quickly; I was worried,” she explained. “From the look of things, shall I assume you’re okay?” 

 

Cassandra huffed and jerked away from Varric. “Go ahead and make fun,” she said, “Maker knows I have it coming.” 

 

Instead of jibes or laughs of triumph or even an ‘I told you so’, Cassandra found herself pulled out of her seat and wrapped in a hug that was surprisingly painful for someone of Amarantha’s size. She was smaller than Cassandra by a head, and her thin elven frame was swallowed by Cassandra’s muscular figure. 

 

“I am happy for you,” she said earnestly. “If this is really happening,” she glanced back at Varric, who was watching with appreciation. “Is it really happening or am I hallucinating.” 

 

“You’re hallucinating,” Cassandra deadpanned before resuming her seat next to Varric. The dwarf smirked. “You’re really not.” 

 

Moving to grab a stool that was pushed in a corner, Amarantha pulled it over to sit across from them. “So… what the hell, then?” 

 

The couple shrugged. “We talked, last night,” Cassandra admitted. “We seem to have similar….interests.” 

 

“Andraste’s ass, that was the most unromantic way of telling someone we’re in a relationship!” Varric laughed, then looked at Amarantha. “We’re madly in love and we’re eloping tonight; so you’ll need to find a new Seeker and charming dwarven rogue to entertain you.” 

 

Amarantha’s glare was piercing. “You do that and I will escort you to the Maker’s side  _ personally _ ,” she remarked, then giggled. “But it’s true, then? You two finally came around?” 

 

Varric grabbed Cassandra’s hand in his and gave her a look of triumph. “It looks that way.” 

 

“Then I offer my sincerest and smuggest congratulations.” 

 

“Gloat later, Inquisitor,” Cassandra replied, “We have other issues to worry about first.” 

 

“The Divine position,” Amarantha agreed, sitting up a little straighter. “I don’t have to be a spymaster to see that Vivienne wants it more than anything. Leliana seems to want it too, but she has  _ some _ reservations.” She looked at Cassandra pointedly, “I’m going to make the assumption that you….aren’t happy about the nomination.” 

 

“Any other time I would have been grateful,” Cassandra said, “I could do some much, were I Divine.” 

 

“But-” Amarantha offered, knowing that there was one coming. 

 

“But,” Cassandra repeated, “The Divine is not supposed to have any romantic relationships. It would be… difficult.” 

 

“Well, they aren’t electing anyone any time soon, from my understanding, “Amarantha said calmly, “The priority is Corypheus. So think on it. Pray on it. I will happily support any of you, but I don’t want to force anyone into something their heart isn’t into.” 

 

“Thank you, Amarantha,” Cassandra said, feeling her nerves genuinely ease, “I know that whatever happens, it will be the Maker’s will.” 

 

“Then let’s hope he’s a romantic at heart,” Varric murmured, and both women found themselves agreeing with the sentiment. 

 

Standing from the stool, Amarantha smiled down at the two of them. “Well, I’ll leave you be,” she said, “I have other business to attend to.” She turned, then stopped and glanced at Varric. “Oh, Varric?” 

 

“Lemme guess: ‘Hurt her and I’ll hurt you’ I know.” he said, hands in the air. Amarantha laughed. 

 

“Actually, I was going to say, let me know if she hurts  _ you _ . Together we might be able to take her.” 

 

Varric seemed to enjoy that, and Cassandra huffed, though there was yet another smile flickering on her lips. Once the door was shut, Cassandra let out a breath and leaned back, eyes to the ceiling. “How long until everyone knows?” 

 

Varric shrugged. “Petal’s pretty good about keeping things quiet. She knew about Tiny and Sparkler for a long while and never said anything.” 

 

“I’m not worried about people knowing so much as I’m worried about the teasing.” 

 

“I’m pretty sure most of our friends are too scared of you to tease. Except The Inquisitor, of course.” 

 

Cassandra smiled at that. “She has become a good friend. And is the only one I would let get away with teasing us.” 

 

“We’ve come a long way from the conclave, haven’t we?” Varric said,  moving his arm to once more wrap around Cassandra. 

 

“Yes,” she agreed, “Much has happened. I am sorry for some of it, but I….would not want to be anywhere else.” 

 

“Yeah,” Varric said, “It’s...been hard lately. But this right here,” he said, tugging her closer to him, “It’s not so bad. Hawke would have-” he paused and took a shuddering breath, “Hawke would have laughed her ass off.” 

 

“We shall have to laugh for her.” 

 

“Yeah,” Varric said softly, “She’d want that.” They fell into a silence after that, comfortable and different, but welcome. Varric’s thumb absently traced over Cassandra's arm and she eventually adjusted so that she could rest her cheek on top of his head. To think this man could bring comfort. To think Varric would be the one her heart beat for. It was madness! But, she thought, most things worth pursuing were. 

 

“So, what’s next?” Varric asked, breaking the silence with a whisper. 

 

“We defeat Corypheus,” Cassandra said simply.

 

“”I can agree with that,” Varric said, “And after that. Divine-hood. Or not.” 

 

“I suppose it _ is _ just that simple, isn’t it?”

 

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Varric said, “You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future, Seeker.” 

 

“I-” she paused. This was so new, so different than anything she’d ever known. And she loved it, and all the possibility that it offered.“I rather like the sound of that.” 

  
  


\-------------------------------

 

Amarantha stood outside the armory, wondering just how much attention she might bring to herself if she let out a squeal of delight. She decided it wasn’t worth it, and so she moved onward, wandering somewhat aimlessly as she thought about her new discovery. To think, she mused, that Varric and Cassandra had finally found each other. It made her heart flutter in excitement to think of the insanity that might spring forth from such a relationship. And at the very least, they both deserved happiness. If they could find it together, the better. 

 

But beyond that, it was something to consider when thinking of a new Divine. She’d been informed by Josephine that she would no doubt be asked for her opinion on the matter, and that her choice would greatly influence the debate. Amarantha wasn’t fond of such a notion; she wasn’t a servant of Andraste and she felt it wrong that she be required to select the woman who would represent the human god for the people. 

 

But if she looked at it as merely a position of power, for in the end that was all it was, she could imagine all three women being excellent candidates. She’d need to talk to others about it, to make sure her decision was the best one, and not made out of ignorance. 

 

She moved to the garden, the quiet solace of the trees swaying in the slight breeze calling to her. She trailed her hand on the bark of the willows that stood in the center of the garden, then kept on, her steps slow and unguided. 

 

“Your thoughts must be quite spectacular to have you so oblivious.” 

 

Amarantha started and looked up to see Morrigan standing before her. She was wearing a much more simple outfit than the gown from Halamshiral but her confident gaze remained ever intact. “My apologizes,” Amarantha said, “I’ve just received some news that required further contemplation.” 

 

“‘Tis always good to think things through,” Morrigan said in a voice that almost sounded teasing, “But if I may distract you from your thoughts? I have some news of my own that I wish to share with you, before bringing it to your council.” 

 

“Oh, of course,” Amarantha said, “Please, go on.” 

 

“‘Tis a matter of showing you, rather than telling,” Morrigan said, “I believe the phrase ‘seeing is believing’ would be an apt description.” 

 

“I’m intrigued,” Amarantha said, “Lead the way.” She paused and then called out over her shoulder, “You too, ‘Rilly.” 

 

Amaryllis peaked out from behind one of the bushes, having enough shame to look down sheepishly. Amarantha motioned her to hurry and the girl abandoned her post to run over to where Amarantha and Morrigan stood. “I finished my lessons for the day, sister.” 

 

“Good,” Amarantha said before looking up. “Morrigan, this is my sister, Amaryllis.” 

 

“A lovely name,” Morrigan cooed, “For a lovely girl.” She eyed the staff strapped to the girl’s back. “And a mage? My, my. I am impressed.” 

 

“Thank you,” Amaryllis said, “I’ve been training hard.” 

 

“I shall like to see you in action,” Morrigan said as she began to move, “Perhaps one day we might spar together?” 

 

“Oh yes!” Amaryllis beamed, eager to show off her skill to a fellow mage. She loved using her magic, loved being in control of something so powerful, and her skill was rapidly progressing so much that even Solas remarked that her power was great; it was merely her technique that still needed refinement. “Never have I witnessed such quick mastery as I have with you,” Solas had remarked on many occasions, “You are a rare specimen, da’len.” 

 

Morrigan led them to a small room off the garden, near the chapel that had been set up for those who wished to pray to Andraste. This room contained no benches or statues, but was instead bare, save for some stray pieces of lumber, large cloths that had been discarded in someone's haste, and a large ornate mirror that towered over the three of them, it’s frame carved with elaborate designs. It was lovely, Amarantha thought, but she was uncertain as to why Morrigan wanted to show this to her. 

 

But then, a flash of memory struck her, and she recalled her grandmother speak of something similar to this, and she breathed out in surprise, “This is elven!” 

 

Morrigan seemed impressed and hummed in response. “Indeed. ‘Tis an Eluvian. Restored at great cost, I may add.” 

 

“What’s an Eluvian?” Amaryllis asked, walking up to touch the smooth glass. Her reflection gazed back at her and she took a moment to smooth out her hair where her sister had mused it. 

 

“It would be easier to show you,” Morrigan said, stepping up to touch the mirror herself. A burst of light rippled over the glass like a pebble on water and the glass, which had only reflected their images and the soft light of a few candles now gave off its own aura, bright and silver-gray, swirling around itself. Morrigan stepped through without a word, disappearing. Looking at each other, the girls stood for a moment, then grabbed hands and stepped through together. 

 

The other side was haunting. The world lay in a foggy gray, as if it had long been abandoned. There was no life, only bare trees and broken streets and silence. A chill shot through Amarantha and she clutched at her arms, rubbing to ward off the cold. Amaryllis turned about, looking all around her in amazement at the sight. Morrigan stood at the center, a roundabout of cobblestone that stretched out in varying directions like spider legs, each street leading to another, similar mirror. 

 

“Where are we?” Amaryllis asked, excitement bubbling in her voice. 

 

“First the ‘what’,” Morrigan said. “This elven artifact leads us to what I call The Crossroads. All of these Eluvians take the traveler to different places. Not all of them work; in fact very few do. Mine works, as we are here, but there is another, in the Arbor Wilds. I believe Corypheus will attempt to access it.” 

 

“Why do you think that?” Amarantha said, wandering a few steps past Morrigan to take in the sight. It was an eery place, somewhere she would not want to be on her own, but she could not deny that she felt at peace here. It felt familiar, like she’d been here a long time ago. Perhaps in a dream, perhaps in a story. But this place called to her, made her blood race and the mark on her hand spark. 

 

“This is how the ancient elves traveled between the far corners of the world. They left no roads, only this. I know not how this place came to be, but I believe that Corypheus would seek it. Imagine what one could do had they access to these Eluvians.” 

 

“It feels like the Fade,” Amaryllis murmured, “Like I’m sleeping, but not.” 

 

“It is not the Fade,” Morrigan remarked, but her eyes shone with pride at the girl’s knowledge, “But it is close. Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers-” 

 

“And enter the Fade in the flesh,” Amarantha finished for her, lifting up her hand, which was glowing, “Like he wanted to do with the anchor.” 

 

“I believe he is desperate, after the harsh defeat at Halamshiral. We must move quickly, if we wish to reach the Eluvian before him.” 

 

“I will summon the council immediately,” Amarantha said as she moved back to the Eluvian from which they’d come, “Let’s go.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cassandra and Varric.....


	28. Rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turned and gave her a studious look, “You’ve done this before?”
> 
> “No,” she shook her head, “Trust me.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Rituals

  
  


Things were moving quickly now that Morrigan had provided insight on Corypheus’ next move. The council met for several hours the following day, working out a plan to take Corypheus down. It was decided after much bickering and deliberation that their noble allies would be contacted and agents would be requested to meet with Leliana’s own, which would give Cullen’s army time to make the trip to the Wilds. Amarantha would follow the army, which would pave a way for her to get to the Temple that Morrigan believed housed the Eluvian. 

 

“It’s risky,” Cullen had said, “But if this…..Eluvian is there, we cannot let Corypheus get to it.” 

 

“No,” Amarantha said, hand balling into a fist, “We can’t.” 

 

They talked on, Leliana providing some valuable insight into Corypheus’ forces. “His general, Calpernia, will no doubt be there leading the forces,” the spymaster informed the others, “She was the one who led the attack on Haven.” 

 

“Then we definitely need to stop her.” 

 

“I think I know something that might help with that. My agents have uncovered some information that might be what we need to break Calpernia’s confidence in her master and give us further advantage.” 

 

“I’ll take anything you can give me,” Amarantha said sternly, “I can’t imagine Corypheus will go after this Eluvian himself. It would be too risky. He’ll most likely send her in his stead.” 

 

“Indeed,” Leliana agreed, “I’ve already been informed that she is rallying troops to march to the Arbor Wilds.”

 

“Then let’s go greet her.”  

 

After that, they adjourned to see to their duties, Josie running to her desk to begin furiously writing letters to those who would help. Leliana further briefed her agents, and Cullen sent out the order to prepare to leave as soon as possible. He set up defenses for Skyhold as he would be traveling with his men, and anticipated that by the end of the day everything would be in place. 

 

Amarantha followed Cullen to his quarters where he was addressing some men on their duties. They were his elite soldiers, and had specific instructions for leading their battalions in the coming fight. Amarantha watched him in silence by the door, taking him in. He was so intelligent, so skilled as a commander. His men listened to him earnestly, a trust and respect for him that cemented in Amarantha’s heart that he was the perfect man for this position and no lyrium headaches were going to prevent him from being the best there was. He dismissed his men not long after that, blinking in surprise to see the Inquisitor standing there watching. The soldiers all pressed their hand to their hearts as they passed, and she bowed her head in return. When the men were gone, Cullen pressed the door shut behind them and leaned his hands against it wearily. 

 

“Headache?” She asked. He nodded. 

 

“Unfortunately,” he sighed. 

 

Taking his hand, Amarantha pulled Cullen behind her to his chair where she gently pushed him down, then circled around him to run her hands gently through his hair and massaging his scalp. “Where?” 

 

He lifted his hands to guide her fingers toward his temples. “You are a miracle, you know that right?” 

 

She bent over and kissed his head. “I try.” 

 

“This battle will be decisive,” he sighed, slumping down in the chair as Amarantha continued to press his temples lightly, moving her fingers in a circular motion. “And I can’t help but be glad of it.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

“Because it’s one step closer to ending all this,” he sighed, “One step closer to being able to….not worry about whether the next time I send you off somewhere will be the last time I see you.” 

 

“It’s strange, being the one staying behind,” she admitted, “I know I’ll be following shortly, but I’m used to you being here. I think I can finally appreciate how you feel.” 

 

He hummed in response. “One day neither of will have to go anywhere.” 

 

“I long for that day.” 

 

He tilted his head back to look up at her. “As do I.” 

 

“Just think,” she whispered, “No more long meetings, no more going off anywhere freezing cold….or full of sand. Or humid.” 

 

“No more looming threats.” 

 

She moved around his chair to lean against the desk, facing him, “We could actually have more than a few minutes alone together.” 

 

“ _ That _ ,” he said, standing, “Is what I look forward to most, I think.” He leaned over her, a predatory grin on his face, and she shifted to better seat herself on the desk. 

 

“I thought you had a headache?” She teased. 

 

“I’ll manage.” 

 

She moved back more so that she could spread her legs, trapping him in between them. Her hand brushed some papers, sending them scattering to the floor, and she looked down with a grimace. “Oops,” she breathed, genuinely apologetic, but when she looked back at Cullen, saw the hunger darkening his eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to voice her apology. 

 

“Yes you will,” she declared breathlessly instead, pulling him to her roughly. He growled in response, using his hand to swipe a path on his desk to lean her on, and crawled over her, mouths and limbs tangling together frantically as he pulled at the ties of her breeches and she unbuttoned his trousers. There was no time for anything but franticly coming together, and they did, their cries sharp and pained as they pressed together, desperate for bursting moment of joy to light the way for the darkness in which they were about to descend. 

 

She remained in his quarters the rest of the night, though sleep was not thought of until much later. When they did sleep, it was pressed together as close as they could manage, both too tired and satisfied to dream. 

 

When Cullen awoke the next morning, he took her again and she kissed him hard and fast, both clinging to each other desperately, the knowledge of what this victory - or defeat - might mean for them. Not long after, Cullen was scrambling to put his office back in order while Amarantha adjusted herself, trying to make sure she was presentable. She would have no time to change before addressing the troops, but found she really didn’t care. Bull would tease, as would Dorian. And Varric. Amarantha stopped and groaned. 

 

Cullen retrieved his pack then grabbed her and kissed her hungrily, leaving Amarantha dizzy with lust. Then they left, rushing to the gates to send the troops off. 

 

With the main troops- and Cullen- gone, all that was left was to send agents who would be able to make faster time and reach the area to scout. Several small factions had already sent word that they were close, and more were on the way. Amarantha met with Bull and the Chargers, who were to do as much damage as possible. Sera and Dorian were with them, the latter of whom remarked on the dark circles under her eyes and wrinkled, day old clothing. Bull wagged his eyebrow at her and Sera made a few lewd gestures, all of which made Amarantha’s cheeks burn, but eventually they got their orders and the group moved to head out. 

 

“Be careful,” she insisted, feeling like a worrying mother. “Look out for each other. Don’t do anything stupid.” 

 

“Don’t worry, Boss,” Bull assured her, “I’ll take care of ‘em. Bring ‘em all back just how I found them. Promise.” 

 

“Dorian,” Amarantha said, glancing past Bull, “Bring him back safe.” 

 

“That’s code for ‘watch my ass’, which you’re welcome to do figuratively  _ and _ literally, by the way,” Bull grinned. Dorian rolled his eyes and looked at Amarantha. 

 

“You sure about that, dear?” 

 

Amarantha laughed. “I’m sure.” 

 

With that, the group headed out, Bull’s voice carrying as he started up a traveling song. Once they were out of sight, Amarantha went to find those who would be directly joining her. She wanted to go over a little more information before they left the next day, and hoped that it would be a quick discussion so she could change and finish packing. 

 

She found  Cassandra and Varric near the training dummies where Cassandra hacked away at one of the wooden figures while Varric cleaned and polished his crossbow. It was alarmingly domestic for them, to see them close to each other even as they looked to be totally ignoring the other. She sauntered up to them, biting back her smile of approval and said, “I’m glad I managed to find you to at the same time,” she said, “I want to go over things one last time before we head out.” 

 

“Of course, Inquisitor,” Cassandra said, lowering her sword so the point pierced the ground at her feet. 

 

“Just say the word and I’ll do it, Your Leadership,” Varric responded, setting aside Bianca to look up from his spot on the grass. 

 

“Oh, so you’ll willingly do what she says, but not me?” Her tone was gruff, but there was an amusement in her eyes that whispered she was joking. Anyone who was not privy  to the secret Amarantha had discovered the other day would have thought she was once more accusing him of something, which would not have been unexpected. 

 

“Yeah because, you see, she  _ asks _ .” 

 

“She didn’t ask!” 

 

“She requested, then,” Varric amended “And without any threats to my person. See what nice gets you, Seeker? Willingness.” 

 

Cassandra’s nose wrinkled in disgust, but there was a smile playing at her lips that she was unable to hide. She turned back to Amarantha, “Whenever you’re ready, Amarantha,” she said. 

 

“I need to change, then we can meet.” 

 

Varric whistled. “Thought those clothes looked familiar.” 

 

Amarantha flushed. “Yes. Well.” At that she turned, determined to change, though she knew it was too late to stop any teasing. Not that she minded entirely, but it still was a little embarrassing. As she moved, Cassandra caught up to her and slid her arm through the elf’s. 

 

“Don’t mind him.” 

 

“I never do.” 

 

Cassandra laughed at that, a delighted, light sound, and the two women moved off together, leaving Varic to his musings. 

 

Varric watched her with a warm desire as she disappeared with Amarantha toward her quarters. He had never been so happy, he thought to himself as the women talked to each other. To think, that Cassandra had somehow grown on him, had warmed up to him and he to her. It was a miracle in itself, and no matter what happened, Varric counted himself lucky to have been granted the Seeker’s affection.  

 

“Who’d have thought,” Varric mused as he gathered Bianca and retreated to his own quarters to prepare for the last meeting, “That this is how things would have turned out?” 

 

\-----------------------------------

  
  


When Solas, Amaryllis, Amarantha, Morrigan, Varric, and Cassandra made it to the Arbor wilds several days later, most of the fighting was over. There were still many struggles, but their forces had done great damage to Corypheus’ army. Cullen met them at the camp, explaining what all had occurred before their arrival. The forces had split into two groups, the better fighters moving ahead of the rest to assist Leliana’s agents as quickly as possible. The rest had caught up later and Amarantha and her company would have a direct path to the Temple where they would be covered on the outside by Inquisition forces set to keep Corypheus out. 

 

“We have a pathway carved out for you,” Cullen explained, “We may have to fight off some straggling darkspawn, but the way should be mostly clear.” 

 

“Excellent work, Commander,” Amarantha said, looking at him affectionately before she caught what he said, “We?” 

 

“There’s no use in your wandering through this place when I already know the way,” he shrugged, “I’ll lead you to the temple myself.” 

 

“We get to fight with you!” Amaryllis said, eyes shining with excitement. Cullen laughed and ruffled her hair gently. 

 

“For a bit,” he said, as he unsheathed his longsword, “It’s about time you get to see me in action. Let’s go!” 

 

They followed the path, stopping on several occasions to fight off darkspawn and agents of Corypheus along the way. They were few and far between, but stragglers had made one last attempt to stop the troops from moving onward. 

 

At a particularly large group of demons, Amarantha shouted for everyone to move back, threw her hand up,  and opened her own small rift to suck up several creatures. When they were gone she slammed it shut, wiping her hands together in satisfaction when the group seemed to freeze mid-fight to look at her. 

 

“I’m getting better at it,” she said with a shrug, “Might as well use it to our advantage if I’m stuck with it.” 

 

Solas’ eyes glowed with pride. 

 

“Remind me to never make you angry, then,” Cullen remarked, and then they moved on. After about an hour of running and fighting, then game to a large grassy area with stones steps that led to an entryway that arched up to a point. There were soldiers fighting off some darkspawn, and the group brought them down quickly and without effort. 

 

“I’ll see you to the temple entrance,” Cullen said, “Then I’ll head back with the soldiers.” 

 

“Be safe,” Amarantha whispered. Cullen nodded, then led them up the stairs and toward the archway. Amarantha stopped short and her sister gasped beside her as they stared at the two stone statues that flanked the entrance. 

 

“Fen’Harel,” Amaryllis breathed, turning to look at her sister. “Why is he here?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Amarantha replied, equally breathless. “Surely this isn’t his temple?” 

 

“No,” Solas said behind them, “I believe this to be the Temple of Mythal.” 

 

“Mythal,” Cullen repeated as he turned to Amarantha, “Isn’t she-” 

 

Her fingers lifted to trail the markings on her face. “Yes,” she whispered, “Hers is the mark I bear.” 

 

Behind her, Solas grunted. Amarantha turned. “Something else to add?” She asked. He shook his head. 

 

“Now is not the time,” he said, “We should hurry.” 

 

She stared at Solas for a moment, then nodded. Whatever knowledge he had, or whatever opinion he held, it could wait. Corypheus needed to be stopped. They moved forward through the dark tunnel of the entryway, stopping short when they reached the end. They stood on a balcony overlooking a bridge that lead to the temple. In front of them at the foot of the bridge was-

 

“Corypheus,” Amaryllis breathed, and Amarantha realized that this was the first time the girl had seen the magister. She wrapped her arm around her sister’s shoulders, urging everyone with her other hand to remain quiet as they watched. 

 

They hadn’t expected him to be here; not when the Inquisition forces were so great. But Morrigan had been correct: he was desperate. Apparently he wanted to see things through himself. Currently, he was threatening an elf, who seemed determined to protect the temple. Corypheus stepped forward onto the bridge menacingly, but the elf smirked when bursts of magic shot forth from the stone columns on either side of the would-be god. Corypheus screamed in agony, then reached out and snatched up the elf by the throat, his cry of rage silenced by a burst of blue light that blinded the others who watched from above. 

 

When it settled, there was nothing left and Corypheus was gone. Sharing a quick glance with the others, Amarantha raced down the steps with her sister’s hand in hers, and they looked at the mess of bodies strewn across the stone yard. One such soldier had been charred in his spot, on his knees before the bridge. The group edged away from the man, weapons at the ready. Just as it seemed all was calm, the ground shook, and the charred man began to stir. Amaryllis gasped, turning into her sister to hide her eyes, while the elder stared horrified as the man began to transform, his body stretching and ripping to accommodate a new formation. Two arms shot out of the man, and his head fell back, a mixture of blood and ooze pouring out of him. Around them the ground shook, and in the distance Amarantha heard the distinct screech of- 

 

“ _ Run!”  _ she cried, tugging on her sister and urging the others to follow her. The group took to the bridge, racing as quickly as they could as the screeching grew louder. A shadow passed over them, and above Corypheus’ dragon appeared, fire building in its throat. 

 

The temple gates were open and they charged inside, each taking a side to push the large stone doors shut. They managed to press it closed just as the creatures’ fire slammed into it, the force knocking several of them back. Amaryllis fell on top of Varric who landed hard on his ass, and Morrigan was laying face up, staring at the ceiling, chest moving rapidly. 

 

Cullen leaned against the door and Amarantha slid to the ground, knees bent as she tried to ignore the frantic spurting of magic from her hand and the rapid pounding in her chest.  

 

“What. The. Shit.” Varric asked as he caught his breath, “Is going on?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Amarantha said as she stood shakily, offering Cullen a silent look of thanks as he took her arm to steady her, “But we’ve got to find this Eluvian before Corypheus finds a way in.” 

 

"This way," Morrigan said, pointing with her staff toward a open courtyard around the stone sky-high pillars that lined the entryway. The group founded the corner to see the entrance to the temple at the top of an elaborate set of stairs. Before the stairs was a large stone surface that was covered in ivy, strange marking lining the tiles that surrounded a stone statue. Morrigan approached it first, followed by Amarantha and Amaryllis. 

 

"I can make out some," Morrigan said, "It seems this is a ritual. I can make out something about a well..." 

 

"There is a Well of Sorrows," Amarantha said with ease, "If one drinks from it they receive a great boon. At a cost." 

 

Morrigan looked at her, brows high. "You know what it says?" 

 

Amarantha gave Morrigan a dry look. “Elf.”

 

"Of course," Morrigan said, backing away a step. 

 

"I bet this is how we get in the temple," Amarantha mused. Amaryllis stepped onto the tiles, jumping back when the area around her began to glow blue and bright. A ringing echoed around them, soft like a chime, and the group exchanged glances. 

 

"Looks that way," Amarantha said, hand in her sister's shoulder. "Want to give it a shot?"

 

Amaryllis beamed and stepped onto the tile again, the ringing once more bursting out through the light. Amaryllis stepped to the next time and the chiming grew louder, and with each step to a new tile the song grew louder and the glowing until the entire platform was lit, and when she stepped off the last time the ground shook and the doors at the top of the stairs opened with a shaking groan. 

 

“Well done,” Morrigan praised. The group turned to look up at the door which glowed with the same magic that glittered from the tiles behind them. Not wanting to waste any more time, Amarantha moved ahead, taking the steps two at a time to reach the top. They entered the room which was barren save for rubble and crumbled stone. Beyond the mess was yet another door and Amarantha wondered just how many doors they would have to pass through before they actually reached the temple. She pushed the door open, with Cullen’s help, and they walked through to see the mage Calpernia. Leliana’s sources had been correct: whatever Corypheus had been trying to do, he’d sent Calpernia ahead of him to secure the temple. Amarantha growled at the sight of the woman who had destroyed Haven. 

 

Looking up, Calpernia noticed the group and snarled to her darkspawn soldiers, “Finish them off!” With that, she she leapt down a large crack in the ground, disappearing with several of her men to accompany her. The darkspawn hissed and growled at the group, and they all readied their weapons, banded together nearly shoulder to shoulder. 

 

“You wanna try that crazy rift thing again?” Varric suggested nervously. 

 

“Sounds good,” Amarantha said. “Form a perimeter around them. Don’t let any escape.” 

 

She spun her daggers between her fingers and ran toward the creatures, throwing herself right in their path. At Cullen’s motion, the others moved around fighting as they went, to form a large circle around Amarantha. She fought demons off with one blade, using the marked hand to summon energy with a great deal of effort and pain. The first time she’d done this, it had been purely instinctual. The rage and frustration that had been building up all night finally bursting forth. Now she was summoning that same power without the raw emotion and it wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped. And she found this time around, things were much easier. 

 

With a sharp jerk downward, she ripped open the air around her, sucking the energy of the darkspawn and demons into it with a ferocious and pained shout. The creatures seemed to freeze in place, their unholy screeches sharp and piercing as they were drained of life and pulled into the Fade once more. After a few long, agonizing moments, Amarantha jerked her hand once more, and the rift closed. Around the group there were a few scattered dead bodies, but most had been pulled away into the Fade. 

 

Cullen stared silently at the emptiness around them, then up to Amarantha, eyes wide in surprise. She met his gaze and grinned sheepishly, watching as he sheathed his sword and approached her. Reaching out, he silently took her marked hand in his and kissed the top of it, then looked at her lovingly. “Are you alright?” 

 

It never ceased to amaze her that he was not disgusted by the mark. With a sigh of relief she nodded. “Yes.” 

 

“Good,” he said, slipping back into a more professional and serious mood, “Now we need to follow them.” 

 

“Wait,” Amarantha said, catching his hand. She nodded toward another large, ornate door. “I think we need to go that way.” 

 

“The door is shut,” he pointed out softly, “We cannot waste time.” 

 

“I know,” she agreed, “But.... This temple belonged to my people. We need to do this right. We don’t know what traps there might be for intruders. If we enter peacefully, respectfully, we decrease the risk of further hindrances.” 

 

“She is right,” Morrigan said, “We should follow the petitioner’s path.” 

 

“We don’t have time,” Cullen protested, though it was not malicious or demanding, “We should follow them.” 

 

“We can’t,” Amarantha said, turning to address Cullen directly. “That elf that was killed….he was no stranger. He is from _ here. _ I can feel it. And there may well be others. He was protecting the temple. He isn’t the only one.” 

 

“She is right,” Solas said, “Perhaps there are others who would hear our plight if we adhere to their rituals.” 

 

“They will know what we seek. They may help us,” Amarantha added. She would not demand, nor plead. But she willed the others to understand. She needed to do this. And if she had to do it alone, she would. After a long pause, Cullen nodded, motioning for Amarantha to lead the way. 

 

“So what do we do, then?” Cassandra asked, arms crossed and looking impatient. Amaryllis glanced around, then pointed in the distance. 

 

“There’s more of those stones,” she said, “I bet that opens the door.” 

 

Solas pointed in another direction. “I see another one there.” 

 

“Okay,” Amarantha said, “We split up. Each group takes the steps and we open the door to go through. If not all are done in ten minutes, then we’ll follow the other way.” Morrigan looked as if she wanted to protest that, but Amarantha glanced at her, “We don’t have time for lessons and lectures. You will go with Cassandra and Varric. Solas, go with my sister. Cullen and I will find any others and take care of them. Ten minutes, meet here, and we move on no matter what.” 

 

The groups split up, each running to one of the other sets of stone and tile. Varric, Cassandra, and Morrigan stood at the edge of theirs, staring ponderously at it. “So what happens if you fail?” Varric asked, “We’re not going to get shot with a bunch of arrows or something, are we?” 

 

“Only one way to find out,” Cassandra said as she stepped onto the platform with an uneasy foot. She wasn’t fond of messing with this sort of thing, but it was Amarantha’s decision, and there wasn’t time to argue. She had a point anyway. If there was a way to avoid further bloodshed by abiding by the rituals of the Inquisitor's people, it might give them an advantage. Cassandra didn’t particularly like it, but she understood, and so she kept her thoughts to herself. The stone lit up as her weight pressed onto the stone, and a musical sound emitted from somewhere around them. In the distance, she could hear notes coming in quick succession, and she scowled at the elves’ ability to quickly figure out the puzzle. 

 

“Step there,” Morrigan said, pointing to the stone in beside her, “Then forward.” Cassandra followed his instructions, stepping where Morrigan pointed with careful steps. “Good,” Varric praised, then spoke to Morrigan, “I think I get it. She needs to step to the right next, doesn’t she?” 

 

Morrigan nodded. “Indeed, she does. It seems you understand the ritual.” 

 

“It’s pretty straight forward,” Varric said simply, “And I like a good puzzle.” 

 

“I’m waiting!” Cassandra called from the other side, standing on a stone and tapping her foot impatiently. 

 

“Forward,” Morrigan and Varric said together. Morrigan seemed impressed with his quick ability. “Where to next, dwarf?” 

 

“Next le- wait, no. To your right.” Cassandra stepped again, then paused and waited for instruction. The two took turns calling out steps until at last Varric chuckled. “You know,” he said leisurely, “It’s kinda nice being in charge for once. No wonder you like to boss me around all the time.” 

 

“Varric,” she said, her voice low in warning.

 

“Hey now,” he said, “I’m in charge. You aren’t going to risk getting impaled by something, so be nice.” 

 

“You would not purposely lead me astray,” she replied with a certainty that surprised her. A moment later, the temple shook around them. She glanced at Varric and Morrigan who shrugged. 

 

“Someone else completed the ritual,” she explained, “Quickly, “To the right and then forward. Bravo.”  

 

The ritual completed, the stones glowed brightly and the temple shook again. “Looks like we did it,” he said with an air of relief, “Nice.” 

 

“Then let’s go,” Cassandra said, accepting Varric’s hand as he helped her hop down from the platform onto the pathway. He let her go a moment later and the two moved on, purposely ignoring Morrigan as she stared after them. If she didn’t know any better she’d say they were flirting but….

 

_ No, _ she thought to herself as she followed them,  _ ‘Tis impossible.  _

 

\------------------------------

 

“So we just, walk.” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“All right.” 

 

“You go,” Amarantha said to Cullen, pointing to the stairs, “I’ll guide you.” 

 

He turned and gave her a studious look, “You’ve done this before?” 

 

“No,” she shook her head, “Trust me.” 

 

That sobered the commander. The words were easily spoken, simple and non-accusing, but he felt the weight of them. He had trusted her thus far, and she had always pulled through. He would be a fool to doubt her now. 

 

“Where do I start?” 

 

Like Cassandra, Cullen moved from one stone to the next, following Amarantha’s instructions as she took a moment to study the path. Her blue-grey eyes trailed the tiles, mentally making the journey herself as she tested which way was the best. Once she was certain she would instruct Cullen to the next block and finally, much to his relief, they reached the end. The ground shook for the third time, and Cullen jumped off the platform, meeting Amarantha in front. 

 

“Let’s hope this works,” he said, and his uncertainty was clear. He didn’t understand the ritual, but he’d done it. Amarantha was grateful for his support, even as she could see in his eyes that he felt suspicious of the whole thing. She did too, if she were honest. But she knew the stories of these temples, had heard her grandmother tell tales of them, and though it cost them time, she knew the end result would be worth it. 

 

“It will,” she assured him softly, and he seemed to relax at that, if only slightly. Pressing a hand to the small of her back, he guided her toward the meeting point, where Solas and Amaryllis were already waiting. Cassandra and Varric and Morrigan were rounding the corner, and in front of them all, the large arched doorway glowed the same shade of blue that burst through the tiles. 

 

“Let’s go,” Amarantha said, not wanting to waste any more time. The group moved together through the doorway, and into the Temple of Mythal. 

  
  
  
  
  



	29. The Well of Sorrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected alliance is formed and a life-changing choice is made.

Chapter 29: The Well of Sorrows 

 

The group entered the temple slowly, wary of what might await them inside. Amarantha gripped her sister’s hand as both a means of comfort and protection. Beside her was Cullen, and next to Amaryllis stood Solas, who looked comfortable and almost nostalgic at the sight of the temple. The others seemed uneasy, and Morrigan was practically trembling with nervous energy. Her anticipation was almost tangible, but she remained silent as they walked the stone floor. The chamber was ancient, worn but well-kept, and the flames that lined the halls wrapped the room in light and warmth to the point it was almost stifling. 

 

Several steps in, Cullen murmured to her, “This place makes me uncomfortable.” 

 

“So it should,” she whispered in return, “We’re being watched.” 

 

He turned to look at her, curious as to how she knew that, when suddenly a swift breeze with a tangible burst of magic swept over them, and the room was lined with elven sentinels, bows aimed directly at them. From the balcony above, another elf stepped forward, decked out in ancient elven armor. Underneath his hood, Amarantha could see the more elaborate design of Mythal’s vallaslin over his cheeks and forehead, and her free hand absently rose to touch her own, rough from the tiny and otherwise unnoticeable scar where she had clawed at herself in her anger. 

 

He spoke, his voice proud and deep, establishing his authority over the place. “Venavis,” he said, arms crossed over his chest as he glared down at them, unimpressed. He studied them for a long moment, meeting the gaze of each one before his eyes landed on Amaryllis. He watched her carefully for several beats, then his eyes trailed up to Amarantha, where he focused on her own vallaslin. “You are unlike the other invaders,” he said in the common tongue, “You, and the small one have features of those who call themselves elvhen.” 

 

“Yes, hahren,” Amarantha said in elven, stepping forward with Amaryllis. “I am called Amarantha. This is my sister Amaryllis. We were of clan Lavellan.” 

 

“Were?” The elf said, head tilting in minor concern. 

 

“Our people were slaughtered. Those who killed them work for the same people who have invaded your temple now. We seek to stop them. Please, will you help us?” 

 

“We were woken by those invaders,” he explained, “We awake only to fight. Our number decrease with each invasion.” 

 

“Then we share the pain of loss,” Amarantha said, “Our people grow smaller every day.” 

 

The elf scoffed. “ _ Our  _ people? You are not my people. You are shadows wearing vallaslin. Your fight is not ours.” 

 

“It is now,” Amaryllis spoke up, her girlish voice shrill with passion, “These people are cruel and evil, and they don’t care about this temple or you! They only want to destroy! Will you really be so proud as to not help us just because we’re not elvish enough for you?” 

 

“ _ Amaryllis!”  _ Amarantha hissed, slapping her hand over her sister’s mouth. She shot a panicked look back to Solas, who only seemed amused, then back up to the other elf. 

 

“Hahren, please forgive my foolish sister. She spoke out of turn.” 

 

But the elf only lowered his arms, an amused look growing on his face. “The small one has spirit,” he replied, “But she is right.” 

 

Amarantha blinked, eyes glancing down to her sister then back up to the other elf. “What?” 

 

The stepped forward, closer to the edge. “I am called Abales,” he said, “And we will help you fight these invaders. On one condition.” 

 

“Which is?” Morrigan asked, privy to the entire conversation. 

 

Abelas glanced at her with mild annoyance, then back to Amarantha, “Once they are defeated, you will leave here- the Well of Sorrows untouched-  and never return.” 

 

“No!” Morrigan cried out in despair. Abelas’ eyes shot to her in disapproval. 

 

“I speak to the children of flowers,” he said with disdain, “This is not for you to decide.” 

 

“Inquisitor, please,” Morrigan said, ignoring him as she turned to Amarantha, eyes wide and pleading. 

 

“What is happening?” Cassandra asked with impatience. 

 

“One moment, hahren,” Amarantha said to Abelas, who inclined his head in acceptance. She turned to the others. 

 

“I could only make out a few  words,” Cullen said sheepishly, “What is he saying?” 

 

“He will help us fight, if we agree to leave the Well of Sorrows untouched and never return here again.” Amarantha explained, “It is more than fair.” 

 

“We  _ need  _ that Well!” Morrigan protested. Amarantha turned sharply to her. 

 

“We? Or you?” 

 

That silenced Morrigan for a moment, and when no one protested, Amarantha turned back to Abelas. In the common tongue, she spoke so everyone could understand. “We humbly and gratefully accept your offer.” 

 

“So be it,” he said. He jumped gracefully over the edge of the balcony, landing with a graceful but booming  _ thud _ on the floor below. Standing to his full height, he stepped closer until he reached Amarantha. He took her face in his hand, firmly but without malice, and tilted her chin up to inspect her. “You bear the mark of Mythal,” he said to her, “I wonder, how loyal are you to she whom you have written in your blood?” 

 

Amarantha met his gaze stubbornly. She doubted, not so much in the existence of Mythal- simply being in this temple, meeting Abelas had put to rest any doubts that her gods might not exist- but she still doubted that Mythal heard her. She was more certain of the Dread Wolf who she believed had saved her after the fall of Haven. She said none of this, but it was clear from his scrutinizing gaze that Abelas knew. He did not seem offended, merely content to see in her eyes the defiance that told him she both trusted and doubted, and he let her go. His gaze moved to Amaryllis, who held her staff to the side in a white-knuckled grip, staring with certainty and bravery in her gaze. 

 

“Little flower,” Abelas addressed her with an almost affectionate tone, “With petals sharp as fangs. The shemlen will be right to fear you.” He then turned, and with a wave of his hand, he swept open a secret doorway to their left, which led to a dimly lit hallway. “I shall lead you myself,” he said as he moved on. The others followed behind him. He spoke to the sentinels who still surrounded the halls, and with a unified shout, they disappeared. 

 

“They’re going to fight,” Solas explained, “They are buying us time.” 

 

“Will they be able to handle themselves?” Cullen asked, slight worry in his voice, “There were so few of them.” 

 

From his place at the front, Abelas spoke over his shoulder, “Do not doubt us by our numbers, warrior. We are more capable than you know.” 

 

They walked on at a pace that was far too slow for the others’ liking. Morrigan was brimming with energy, hands gripping her staff tightly as she tried to maintain her composure. On the other side of the walls, they could hear fighting, the clanging of swords and shouts of men and elves echoing through the secret chamber. At the back of the group, Varric shuddered. 

 

“So you guys only wake up to fight?” He said, trying to cover the sound of war with idle conversation, “Does it happen often?” 

 

“Often enough, over time,” Was Abelas’ cryptic answer before he fell silent and continued on. After a moment Amarantha stepped up so that she walked next to him.

 

“May I ask,” she said softly, “What exactly  _ is _ the Well of Sorrows? And why would Corypheus seek it? Can it really be something he can use to ascend?” 

 

Abelas kept his gaze forward, but his brow creased slightly. “It is a path,” he explained, his tone hushed and melodic in their tongue, “One walked only by those who toiled in Mythal’s favor.” 

 

“Outside there was writing,” Amarantha added, “It said there is a price to drinking the from the Well. What  _ is _ the price?” 

 

“It matters not,” Abelas replied haughtily, “For the Well will be preserved.” From behind them, Morrigan scoffed. 

 

“I do not ask as an intending participant,” Amarantha explained, “I merely ask- there is so much that my people have lost. I was lucky to learn more than some; my Grandmother saw to that, but we are half a people. It is as you said: we are shadows, compared to what we were….what we might have been.” 

 

“Your sentiment is unwarranted,” Abelas chided, though it was without malice, “Do not romanticize that which you do not understand.” 

 

“Then help us understand,” Amaryllis said, popping up on the other side of the sentinel so that he was sandwiched between them. “You chide us for not knowing but you won’t teach us.” 

 

Abelas laughed, a soft, bittersweet melody. “I was right about your petals being sharp. Very well. We elven warred upon ourselves. We brought our own destruction. Do not weep for the loss we brought upon ourselves.” 

 

“And what of the gods?” Amarantha asked, “Where were they when this happened?” 

 

Abelas paused his steps and turned to her. “You really do not know,” he said with a shake of his head, “Every time we awaken, the world is more foreign to us than before. You truly know nothing.” It was not said hatefully, but with sorrow. Amarantha met his gaze, her own despair shining through.

 

“Is that what the Well offers then? Knowledge?” 

 

Abelas continued to look straight ahead, his eyes holding sorrow from centuries past. His gait was slow and heavy, as if he personally bore the pain of loss the elves had suffered. Amarantha and her sister had only knew a little of their past- what little the Dalish had gathered over the years. But she had not experienced it as she assumed Abelas had, and her heart ached for the ancient elf who stood proud even as his shoulders slumped. 

 

Eventually he nodded. “Yes.” 

 

“Do you often have intruders seeking to drink the Well?” 

 

“Often enough, over time,” Abelas said softly before turning to inspect Amarantha. “You are a curious creature.” 

 

“You’re an ancient sentinel who guards a previously unknown temple to one of the lost Elven gods,” Amarantha remarked, “Forgive any disrespect, but I can be nothing  _ but _ curious. You must know s _ o much. _ ” 

 

Abelas halted his steps. He turned to face Amarantha, his eyes dark with hidden horrors. “Be wary, da’len,” he said so that only a privy few could understand him, “Knowledge is a useful tool, but the wielder must know how to manage what he holds.”  

 

Before she could respond, Abelas gestured forward. In the common tongue he spoke: “Come. We are nearly there.” 

 

With another sweep of his hand a set of doors opened into another chamber similar to the first one they’d come to. The courtyard was overrun with ivy and flowers, a testament to its age. It was large and open, a solemn and serene setting that felt more like home to Amarantha than she’d ever felt before. A peace settled over her and her eyes slipped shut. “It’s beautiful,” Amarantha whispered. Beside her Abelas hummed. 

 

“Do you feel it?” He asked, “Do you feel her?” 

 

“Yes,” Amarantha whispered, the thrum of magic and history and all her people were making the air tremble. She felt it in her skin, in her bones. Beside her Amaryllis shivered. “I feel it too.” 

 

“What?” Cullen asked. Amarantha turned and offered him a loving smile. 

 

“I can’t describe it,” she replied, breathless in her awe, “But it feels….”

 

“ _ Right _ ,” Amaryllis finished. 

 

Cullen watched them for a moment, thinking Amarantha had never looked more beautiful. She stood still, soaking in the glory and beauty that surrounded them, and for a moment he was almost envious of what she must be feeling to make her so suddenly at ease. He’d never seen her so open and vulnerable at that moment as she basked in the sensation that seemed to pass over him completely. 

 

A shout ripped them from their pensive reverie, and the group looked down to see Calpernia marching toward the Well, only a handful of soldiers behind her. “We must go,” Cassandra said, stepping ahead of the group, hand on her hilt, and they rushed down to cut Calpernia off at the pass. 

 

“Out of the way,” the mage hissed, summoning a sphere of magic, “I have a task to complete.” 

 

“Calpernia,” Amarantha said, “Let us talk about this.” 

 

The mage put a hand on her hip. “Talk? I did not think you civilized enough to have a conversation.” 

 

“Says the woman who ruthlessly attacked Haven and murdered countless innocents.” 

 

Calpernia rolled her eyes. “It is all according to my master’s plan,” she declared, “I am his chosen vessel. He has bestowed me the honor of drinking from the Well. All that power, that knowledge,” her mouth practically watered as she spoke, “It will be mine to use for the glory of Corypheus!” 

 

“Are you really so foolish as to believe that demon?” Cassandra said stepping beside Amarantha. “Do you not know what he has done to others who have submitted to his will?” 

 

Calpernia blinked. “What are you talking about?” 

 

“We have proof that Corypheus plans to bind you once you drink from the well,” Cassandra explained, “Our agents have uncovered numerous others who have been bound, turned into puppets for Corypheus’ manipulation.” She paused, “Do you recall the Grey Wardens?” 

 

Calpernia stepped back. “No,” she said, “I do not believe you.” 

 

“Are you willing to take the risk?” Varric asked, “Though, you wouldn’t know it if he did. ‘Cause you’d be, you know, mindless.” 

 

Something in Calpernia seemed to snap. She stepped back further, looking at each of them in confusion and mistrust. “You’re lying! You want the Well for yourself!” 

 

“What promises has he come through on?” Amarantha asked, “What has he given you for your service? What has he given others? He uses you, for all your worth, and when your value has run out, he tosses you aside. Do you really think he would allow you to  _ freely  _ wield the power of the Well?” 

 

Calpernia seemed to go rigid. “No,” she said, understanding dawning on her, “No he wouldn’t….” 

 

“Then why would you willingly give away your freedom to someone who does not care for you?” Cullen asked, “You don’t have to do this.” 

 

“No,” she whispered, “I… he… said he would give Tevinter a true leader… but…” 

 

“But he doesn’t care,” Amarantha said, “A man who seeks to bring about such destruction, a man who would lift  _ himself _ above all others: that man does not have your best interest in mind. You want a leader for Tevinter?  _ Be  _ that leader!” 

 

“I  _ can’t _ !” Calpernia declared, “I have sworn myself to him. He is my master!” Her voice cracked as she spoke and behind her, her guards shifted uncertainly, waiting for her order. 

 

“You destroyed Haven,” Amarantha began, “You have made yourself an enemy to many. But if you swear allegiance to us  _ now _ , I will see to it that you are returned to Tevinter safely. You will be judged for your crimes against us, but I offer you protection in exchange for your cooperation.” 

 

Calpernia stared at her for a long moment. “You...would not kill me? I am an enemy.” 

 

“The Inquisitor is showing you mercy,” Cullen said, though unhappily, “I would not question her.” 

 

“My aim is to avoid further bloodshed,” Amarantha said, addressing everyone, “It is inevitable of course, but your death is not something I want. It will accomplish nothing, save revenge. And unlike some, I find no pleasure in revenge.” 

 

Calpernia stood for a long moment, shaking. She looked at the Inquisitor, to Abelas, to the others, then to the Well. Finally, she seemed to crumble, and she sank to her knees. “Then….I submit.” 

 

Cullen moved to her side and gripped her arm in his hands tightly. “Then you will come with us,” he said sternly, “And you will tell us what you know.”  

 

“I….may not be of much help. But...I will tell you what I can..” 

 

“And for that we are grateful,” Amarantha said, approaching Calpernia and meeting her eyes. “You have a lot to answer for, Calpernia. I suggest you start by telling me why you agreed to help Corypheus in the first place.” 

 

The mage looked down, studying the ground below her. “I...wanted to help my people,” she murmured, “Corypheus promised to restore Tevinter. Promised that I would be used as his vessel to bring glory to my people. I… wanted that.” She huffed. “I  _ still _ want that.” 

 

“There are other ways to see that come to pass.” 

 

“I was under the impression that The Inquisition was no friend of Tevinter,” Calpernia mused, “Perhaps I have been mistaken again.” 

 

“Indeed,” Cassandra said behind them. Amarantha continued. “One of our most trusted agents is from Tevinter.” 

 

Calpernia blinked. “You truly do accept all, then.” 

 

“So long as their cause aligns with ours, other differences can be pushed aside.” Amarantha gave Calpernia a fixed look. “Can’t they?” 

 

“Yes,” Calpernia said at last, “I submit to the Inquisition. Better a willing servant than….whatever my master-” here she caught herself, “ _ Former _ master would have had me be.” 

 

Amarantha felt a sense of pride. She was pleased Calpernia had listened to them; had chosen to betray Corypheus and join them. She would prove powerful, once she was trustworthy. She would inform Leliana to keep an agent on Calpernia at all times, but the woman who led an attack on Haven would certainly be a strong ally if she’d been so capable back then. She would have a lot to answer for, certainly, but she could start by helping them defeat Corypheus. 

 

She turned behind her to address the others, but the words caught in her throat. “Where are Abelas and Morrigan?” 

 

The group seemed to realize it as she asked, and they all looked around in panic. The two were indeed missing. Suddenly Calpernia called out, “There! The Well!” 

 

Amarantha turned and sure enough, Abelas was racing behind Morrigan, who was speeding up the stone steps toward the Well.

 

“Fenedhis! Morrigan!” Amarantha cried, rushing toward the Well, the others right behind her. She reached the top to see that Morrigan stood between Abelas and the Well, a look of righteous indignation in her eyes. 

 

“The Well is now ours, Inquisitor!” She declared, “We can use its power to stop Corypheus!” 

 

“I would see it destroyed before bestowed upon your grasping fingers,” Abelas responded, pointing a hash finger at her. 

 

The others stood behind Abelas, watching in concern as the two faced off. Finally Amarantha stepped forward. “Morrigan, that is  _ enough _ . Step away from the Well.” 

 

“Inquisitor, do you not see?” She petitioned, “He is a fool willing to let your people’s legacy rot in shadow!” 

 

“Have a care, mage,” Solas said, stepping up beside Amarantha, “You know nothing of what you speak.” 

 

“I know this Well is the  _ key _ ,” she insisted, “See? There is an Eluvian here.” She pointed behind her where an Eluvian indeed leaned against the back stone wall. “And I will not see it destroyed!” 

 

“Morrigan,” Cassandra said, stepping forward as well, “You heard the Inquisitor.  _ Enough.”  _

 

Morrigan scoffed. “You do not frighten me,  _ Seeker _ .” 

 

“I would not make an enemy of these people, if I were you,” Calpernia remarked from her place at the back, still in Cullen’s grip, “Merciful though they might be.” 

 

Calling forth her magic, Amarantha lifted her hand, which was glowing green with jagged energy. “Morrigan,” she said, voice low with frustration, “ _ Move _ .” 

 

Morrigan stared at the Mark for a long moment. “The Well offers power,” she tried to reason, “Should we not turn that power against Corypheus?” 

 

Next to them, Abelas looked just as forlorn. “You do not even know what you ask,” he said, stepping forward to the Well’s edge, next to Morrigan. “As each servant of Mythal reached their last years, they would pass their knowledge on. Through this.” He sighed. “All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever.” 

 

“It already is,” Amarantha said sadly, “Our- my people… we have lost so much.” 

 

Golden eyes looked away, forlorn. “You know little of what we have lost, da’len.” 

 

“Have hope. Your people yet linger,” Solas spoke up. Abelas turned to look at him. 

 

“Elvhen such as you?” Abelas asked, cynical. 

 

“Such as I,” Solas responded, to the surprise of Amarantha. She looked between the two elven men, watching them for a long moment as they shared a look of understanding. Finally, he turned to look at Amarantha. He stepped closer to her once more leaning almost uncomfortably close to her, studying her. She dropped her hand, the power fading into nothingness. 

 

“You bear the mark of Mythal,” he said, “You have shown her respect. And there is a righteousness about you I cannot deny. You are merciful,” he said, sparing a glance at Calpernia, who had the decency to look away, “Even when you have cause  _ not _ to be. If the Well is to be compromised; if the Well’s fate is to be used by evil such as this Corypheus… if it is to be  _ used _ no matter what… I would have  _ you _ be the one to partake from it.” 

 

“Me?” Amarantha breathed, watching Abelas with wonder. “You said you’d rather have the Well destroyed.” 

 

“I realize now that the only acceptable alternative would be to have  _ you  _ drink,” Abelas said. “It is not ideal. It is not what I would wish. But it is the lesser of all evils.” He offered her a grim smile, “And if anyone is to bear the knowledge, I will have it be you.”  

 

“I do not think that wise, Inquisitor,” Cassandra said instantly, though it was soft and not demanding. 

 

“Nor I,” Solas agreed. Varric merely stepped back, hands up. “Don’t look at me,” he said, “I don’t understand any of this shit.” He paused and then addressed Abelas, “No offense.”

 

Turning to Cullen, Amarantha looked at him pleadingly. Cullen stepped forward and took her hands in his, ignoring Abelas’ grunt of disapproval. “I don’t like it,” Cullen admitted, “We don’t know what this Well will do to you.” 

 

“It would bind her to the will of Mythal,” Abelas answered, “Tell me, shem.” he said, but not with malice, “Does knowing she would be bound to an elvhen god alter your….feelings for her?” 

 

Cullen turned to face Abelas, his hand still gripping Amarantha’s tightly. “No,” he said with more certainty than he’d even known before. “ _ Nothing _ could change that.” 

 

Abelas did not seem certain. “We shall see.” 

 

Cullen turned back to Amarantha, who was focused on the Well. “Vhenan,” Cullen whispered, causing . Amarantha’s attention to turn sharply back to him and Abelas’ eyes to widen in surprise. “I love you. I will support whatever you choose. Much as I am wary of all of this.” 

 

“I…” Amarantha thought for a moment. To be bound to Mythal was no small thing. But, surely it was worth it, to stop Corypheus? She looked from Cullen to the Well, then back again. Nothing would be worth losing Cullen, but if she did not take the risk, Corypheus might still seek to use the Well. It was safer in her hands. The knowledge of her people was too valuable to give up, even as she knew it was dangerous. “I’ll do it.” 

 

“You do not have the knowledge to properly wield the power!” Morrigan cried in one last desperate attempt. 

 

“You don’t know that,” Amarantha said, still searching Cullen’s face for the assurance she craved. She was nervous, uncertain. Cullen gave her strength. “These are  _ my _ people. This is  _ my _ history. Not yours. Knowledge alone does not qualify one for this task.” 

 

“She is right,” Solas added, “Though I do not think it wise to drink from the Well yourself.” 

 

“It’s me, or Corypheus,” Amarantha said, finally looking away to meet Solas’ gaze, “Unless you’d like to offer your services?” 

 

Solas bristled. “No.” 

 

“Then it is my duty,” she said, “If it will stop Corypheus, I will do it.” She looked away, face grim, “He has already taken too much from me. I won’t let him have this.” 

 

“Be careful, sister,” Amaryllis whispered from beside her sister. Amarantha bent down and placed a kiss to her sister’s forehead. 

 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

 

Standing back up, she brushed past Morrigan who seethed with jealousy. Carefully, and without waiting for any further protests, she stepped to the Well. Cullen watched, worried, and wrapped his arm around Amaryllis’ shoulders. She leaned against him, watching with wide-eyed wonder, as Amarantha waded toward the center of the pool. 

 

The water was cold. That was the first thing Amarantha noticed. It did not chill her as cold water ought, but she felt it, magical in nature, surround her. She turned to face the group, noticing absently that Abelas stood next to Solas. They were speaking quietly, but their eyes were fixed upon her. She frowned, but returned her focus to the task at hand. She had doubted Mythal: Haven, her clan, Hawke. All had been tragic loses, unexpected, unnecessary, and because of her. She had lashed out at her gods in her anger, declaring they had abandoned her. She still felt, in some way that perhaps they had. Perhaps, she thought, drinking from the Well might provide the answers her prayers had failed to deliver.

 

Taking a breath, Amarantha cupped her hands in the water, and lifted them to her lips to drink.

 

_ It was dark. But even in the blackness, Amarantha found that her sight was not hindered. She could tell without question that she was surrounded by nothing. She was alone. Stepping forward, she realized that she was underwater. Moving her hand, she felt the familiar pressure of water pushing against her. She blinked, then panic struck her and on instinct she took a deep breath-  _

 

_ and was able to breathe.  _

 

_ She froze at the realization, then took another breath, and another, slow and deliberate, the water not physically entering her mouth nor her lungs. She was alright. Taking a step forward, she looked around again, but there was still only darkness.  _

 

_ “You drank from the Well,” a voice said from somewhere in the distance. Amarantha turned her gaze to the source of the sound, but there was nothing. Another voice spoke up, this one old and worn, clearly ancient. It whispered in elvhen, and when Amarantha turned, she suddenly found herself surrounded by wisps of white, spirits of those who came before her. They did not take shape as men or women, but merely bursts of color, white and grey and blue. They swam around her like fish in a pond, whispering and speaking all at once, in the ancient tongue as well as the more modern dialect.  _

 

_ “Please,” Amarantha said in elvhen, “My name is Amarantha of Clan Lavellan. I am known across Thedas as the Inquisitor. I have been marked by powerful magic and I seek to stop a magister named Corypheus. He is bent upon the destruction of the world. He sought this Well, sought to use and abuse its power. I am one of you! I am a servant of Mythal! I bear her mark! Please, I call upon your wisdom and knowledge! Help me defeat this man! Fill me with understanding!”  _

 

_ The voices continued to whisper, questioning her and speaking in riddles. She stood, head turning frantically as she tried to keep up with all the spirits. They tingled against her skin as they brushed by her, like sly fingers in her hair and ghosting against his skin.  _

 

_ They began to circle around her, reminding her of children playing a game where they danced around someone in the center who had to shut their eyes and catch the others. They circled closer, the whispering growing louder and louder until her ears rang from the volume, and then they swarmed, covering her, suffocating her until  she couldn’t breathe. Struggling, she fought to take a deep breath and slammed her eyes shut-  _

 

And opened them to see Cullen, Solas, Amaryllis, Morrigan, Cassandra, and Varric standing over her, faces contorted in concern. She coughed, air filling her lungs and pushed herself up into a sitting position. Cullen was at her side, helping her and holding her steady, but she bent forward, pressing her head into her hands. 

 

“Amarantha?” He asked, carefully rubbing comforting circles on her back. Beside him, Amaryllis rested her hand on her sister’s thigh. 

 

“Sister?” 

 

Amarantha didn’t respond. The voices in her mind drowned out any other speech. Idly, she realized that one of those voices was hers, speaking frantically in a language she only half understood. 

 

“She is speaking in ancient Elvhen,” Solas informed the others as he knelt down in front of her.

 

“What is she saying?” Cassandra asked impatiently, kneeling down next to her friend. 

 

“She is currently reciting an ancient ritual of the gods,” Solas said before adding a moment later, “Now she is recounting a battle that took place thousands of years ago.” 

 

“Does any of that actually help us now?” Varric asked incredulously. 

 

“She’s sorting,” Amaryllis said softly, sagely. “If you suddenly had thousands of years of information shoved into your head, you’d have to sort it out. Like Dorian arranges the library.” 

 

“That makes sense,” Cullen said, even as he still felt concern over watching his beloved murmur in a strange language in a manner that was almost possessed. “She’s overwhelmed.” 

 

“I told you it would be best to let someone-” 

 

“That is enough,” Cullen said, looking up long enough to glare at Morrigan, “It’s done.” 

 

Through it all, Amarantha murmured, rocking back and forth as she poured through mountains of memories and knowledge. It carried on for some time, and Solas and Abelas assured the rest that she was fine. Finally, she fell silent and raised her head, confusion evident in her features as she stared at everyone gathered around her. “What are you all doing?” 

 

Glances were shared before Amaryllis offered to explain. “You were talking in Ancient,” she said, “Really fast.” 

 

“Oh,” she said distractedly, passing her hand through her hair, the wet strands sticking to her fingers. Taking a shaky breath, she turned to glance at Cullen and smiled a watery grin. “Cullen,” she said, voice trembling, “I can hear them.” 

 

“That’s good,” he encouraged, though he wasn’t certain if it was. 

 

“No,” she said, shaking her head, reaching to grab his hand. “You don’t understand,” she gasped, “I can  _ hear  _ them. My people. They…..I understand so much. I  _ know _ so much...I-” she broke off, a sob escaping her, “I could fill a thousand books. There is  _ so much _ . It’s….beautiful. I’ve never known something so-” she couldn’t manage a word in the common tongue, and so instead she let out a string of ancient, the only other person around to understand smiling as he listened.

 

“Then, do you know how to defeat Corypheus?” Cassandra asked softly, eager for an answer but understanding the great ordeal her friend had just gone through. 

 

“I do,” Amarantha said, before glancing up at Solas, “And I know about the orb.” 

 

Solas cocked his head to the side, interested. “Do you?” 

 

“Yes. It-” She froze, then looked past the elf, eyes distant but focused on a point beyond them. In a voice that felt old and ancient she whispered, “Corypheus is coming.” 

 

The others were on their feet in an instant. Cullen pulled Amarantha up by her arm and she swayed slightly, leaning against him dizzily. “There,” she pointed, to the balcony they’d come from before. “I can feel him. He’s angry.” 

 

“We must go,” Solas said, stepping back. 

 

“The Eluvian,” Morrigan said, pointing to the large mirror behind them, “Inquisitor, you must open it!” 

 

Turning with Cullen’s aid, Amarantha glanced at the Eluvian, then raised her hand. A swirl of green and blue magic shot from her hand and struck the Eluvian, causing it to light up like Morrigan’s had when she’d first shown it to Amarantha. Behind them, they could hear Corypheus screaming in rage, and they ran toward the mirror. When they reached it, Amarantha slipped out of Cullen’s grasp and motioned him through. “I need to close it,” she said hurriedly, “Go. I’ll be right there.” 

 

He hesitated only a moment, then was grabbed by Amaryllis, and jerked through. Calpernia was the last one to reach the mirror and she stopped at the edge. Turning, she faced Corypheus, and snarled. “I will not be your slave!” she shouted in Tevene, then with a nod to Amarantha, she ran through the Eluvian. Not waiting a moment more, Amarantha followed, clenching her hand into a fist to snap the Eluvian shut behind her. 

  
  
  
  



	30. Not Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the Temple of Mythal.

Chapter Thirty: Not Bad

 

Cassandra was on her feet, alarmed and frantic. “We are back at Skyhold!” She cried, recognizing the familiar stone walls and the Eluvian out of which they’d stumbled. Cullen stood as well, pausing to help Amaryllis up, then Calpernia. Varric slowly pushed himself up, while Solas watched Amarantha carefully. 

 

“We have to go back!” Cassandra insisted when no one said anything. 

 

“We can’t,” Amarantha said softly. “At any rate, Corypheus will flee. His army is already retreating.” 

 

“How do you know?” Varric asked. Amarantha shivered. 

 

“I don’t...know how.” 

 

Cullen moved to the doorway, throwing the wooden door open. “I’ll get to Leliana,” he said, “Have her send a message to the troops and find out what’s happening.” With that he was gone, heavy footsteps echoing on the stone. 

 

“I will get the Inquisitor to bed,” Solas said, ignoring Amarantha’s grumble of protest. “You are weak,” he said, “The Well has drained you of your energy. You are no good to us stumbling about.” 

 

“Come on, sister,” Amaryllis said, taking her sister’s hand, “Let’s go.” 

 

Too weak to protest, Amarantha let herself be guided out of the room. She paused long enough to whisper to Cassandra, “You’re in charge,” before she was pulled away. With that said, Cassandra turned to Calpernia, who was absently tracing her hand over the elaborate casing of the mirror. 

 

“Mage,” she said hotly. Calpernia turned, hands falling to her side. “You have a lot to answer for.” 

 

The fire that had burned in Calpernia when she’d been so confident in her master seemed to be quenched. She did not stand as proud, and her head was not held so high. “I know,” she said simply. “I cannot imagine I will be welcomed here.” 

 

“No shit,” Varric added, arms crossed over his chest. “You got a lot of people killed.” 

 

“Including the Inquisitor’s clan,” Cassandra finished. Calpernia blinked. 

 

“I did not-” 

 

“Maybe not directly,” Varric allowed, “But they were killed by Venatori. Who  _ you _ lead.” 

 

“Then send me on my way to Tevinter, and you shall be rid of me,” Calpernia said weakly, clearly not interested in fighting. “I know my crimes. I will serve my country to make up for the destruction I have caused.” 

 

Cassandra gripped her arm. “You do not leave until the Inquisitor says so,” she replied, “In the meantime, you will be held in the cells.” 

 

“It might be safest that way, if Corypheus knows you have turned,” Morrigan offered from her place leaned against the wall. “If she is to be used for her information, she will need to be kept safe: as the Inquisitor promised.” 

 

Calpernia looked from one woman to the other, then stretched her hands out in front of her. “If I am to be locked away, then please just do it. I am weary.”  

 

Stepping outside for a moment, Cassandra summoned a guard who had been ordered to remain stationed at Skyhold. “Take this woman to the dungeon,” she said, “Tell no one else of her presence, and see that she is well looked after.” 

 

“Small mercies,” Calpernia remarked, as she was lead away, “I can see why the Inquisition is beloved.” 

 

Once she was gone, Morrigan strode forward. “I believe I shall assist the Inquisitor,” she said, “Perhaps my knowledge might yet be of some use.” It was bitter, reluctant, but she held herself proud as she sauntered out of the room, leaving Varric and Cassandra alone. 

 

Turning to look at her, Varric asked in earnest exasperation, “What the hell just happened?” 

 

Cassandra hesitated a moment, then slid to the floor, exhausted. “We found an ancient elven temple, the Inquisitor drank water that granted her ancient elven knowledge, we saved the woman who was responsible for the fall of Haven, and we ran through,” she paused then threw her hand in the direction of the Eluvian, “That.” Her head fell back against the wall as she stared up at the ceiling. “And I thought a hole in the sky was the most frightening part of all this.” 

 

“Looks like the hole in the sky was just the beginning,” Varric remarked as he joined her on the ground, laying Bianca across his legs. “Normally I’d be inclined to say ‘stranger things have happened’ but I’m pretty sure that’d just be untrue at this point.” 

 

That resulted in a short chuckle from Cassandra, who slumped down enough to rest her head on Varric’s shoulder. His own cheek pressed against the crown of her head, and he reached over to entwine their hands together. “At least we’re alive?” He offered. 

 

“We do have that going for us,” She admitted. “We should go find out about the others. If Corypheus’ army did flee, I’d like to know the others are safe.” 

 

“We’ll go in a second,” Varric agreed, “Let me just….have a moment.” 

 

“Out of breath, dwarf?” She teased. Varric didn’t reply instantly. When he did, his tone was low and serious. 

 

“No. Just….Relishing the fact that we’re...here. Together.” Cassandra’s other hand rose to cover where their hands were linked together. 

 

“I am….glad you’re here,” she admitted softly. “I’m not entirely certain I could do this without you.” 

 

“Sure you could,” Varric said, trying only half-heartedly to lighten the mood. Sometimes even he was unable to rise above the horror and despair of it all, “You’d just be a lot more grumpy.” 

 

“I rather like being less grumpy.” 

 

He lifted her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Yeah. Me too.” 

 

\-----------------------------

 

“So how does it feel?” Amaryllis asked as Amarantha reclined on the large couch next to her bed. She’d refused to be tucked in like a child, and instead was curled up on the white, plush couch, Solas kneeling in front of her to observe her, while Amaryllis sat on her knees beside her sister, holding her hand. 

 

“Let her rest, da’len,” Solas instructed softly. 

 

“It’s all right,” Amarantha said, turning to look at her sister. “It feels…..overwhelming. Like too many people are talking to me at once, clamoring for my attention.” 

 

“Does your head hurt?” Amaryllis asked. 

 

Amarantha nodded weakly. “Like you can’t even imagine.” 

 

“Amaryllis,” Solas said, “Why don’t you go get your sister some tea?” The girl crossed her arms and glared at her teacher. 

 

“Whatever you’re going to fuss at her about, I can hear it,  _ hahren _ ,” she said, mindful of showing respect even as she ignored his request. Solas knew he should be annoyed by her defiance, but he could not help but admire her fortitude. 

 

“Very well,” he said, turning to Amarantha, his face grim. “You should not have drunk from the Well.” His tone was soft, but harsh, chiding like her grandmother’s might have been once. 

 

“I didn’t see anyone else offering to drink it,” she remarked tiredly. 

 

“Do you not understand?” He asked, and she could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface. He was forcing himself to remain calm, even as he was certainly enraged by her decision. “You have bound yourself to the will of Mythal!” 

 

“You don’t even believe in them,” she said tiredly. 

 

“I believe they existed,” he corrected, “Not that they were gods. But they  _ were  _ real _.” _

 

“Then what would you have me do?” Amarantha asked sharply, “Leave the Well to be destroyed? Or worse, allow Corypheus to use it? Or do you not think he has meddled with elvhen artifacts enough?” 

 

“What do you mean?” Amaryllis asked, eyes wide as she watched her sister and teacher argue. 

 

Amarantha turned her head, which was heavy and tired, toward her sister. “The orb,” she explained, “The one that Corypheus used. You haven’t seen it. But Solas and I have. It was elven. More specifically,” she said, turning to look at Solas once more, “It belonged to Fen’Harel.” 

 

“The Dread Wolf!” Amaryllis gasped in fear and awe. “He’s helping Corypheus?” 

 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so? It’s fuzzy. But the orb was his. Somehow Corypheus got his hands on it.” 

 

“That’s not good,” Amaryllis remarked, “But maybe that means Dread Wolf is helping us?” 

 

Solas turned his gaze sharply to the younger elf. “What do you mean?” 

 

“Well,” Amaryllis shrugged, “Sister told me that when Haven fell because of that mage lady, she prayed. And she prayed to the Dread Wolf too.” 

 

“And I heard wolves,” she whispered, finished Amaryllis’ thought, “It was as if they guided me. Maybe.... maybe the gods or….or whatever they were. Are. Maybe they  _ are _ helping us.” 

 

“I would not be so certain,” Solas protested softly, but further conversation was interrupted by Cullen entering the room, a small tray of tea and fruit and cheese in his hands. 

 

“We are awaiting word from the battle,” he informed them as he placed the tray on the arm of the couch. “I thought you could use something to eat in the meantime.” 

 

Amaryllis scooted to the other edge of the couch and patted the seat beside her. Cullen took the invitation and sat down in between the girls. Amaryllis curled up against him, tired as well, and Cullen wrapped his arm around her shoulder as she leaned into him. Amarantha groggily shifted to lean on his other shoulder, and Cullen found himself holding two tired elves in his embrace. Solas looked torn on whether to pursue his argument or not, but Amarantha decided it for him. 

 

“You can berate me later,” she said, “You know I respect you and your opinion, but this was  _ my _ choice. And I do not regret it.” 

 

“We are not done,” he agreed, standing. “But you are clearly weary. I will let you rest.” He nodded to Cullen, then removed himself from the room. 

 

Amarantha sighed and curled closer to him. “It’s so loud,” she whispered, “And Solas is angry.” 

 

“He’ll live,” Cullen remarked, knowing now was not the time to bring up his own grievances against her choice. 

 

“You’re angry too,” she replied, “You don’t think it was safe.” 

 

_ So much for that _ , Cullen thought dryly. “No, I don’t.” 

 

“But you trust me?” 

 

He sighed. “Of course I do.  _ You _ aren’t the issue. I don’t understand the Well, or what you’re hearing.  _ That _ is where I’m uncertain. We don’t know what will happen to you.” 

 

“I made a choice,” she sighed, “And it’s not a popular one. But everything that’s in my head? I can’t let Corypheus have it.” She paused, reaching to grab a few grapes. She popped one in her mouth and sighed. “I know about his dragon- the arch demon. I know about his orb. I know where he is going next. I know about my history. The Dalish… It’s-” she broke off. “It’s  _ horrible. _ ”  

 

“Are the voices still there?” He asked softly, “Do you still hear them?” 

 

She nodded. “Yes. It’s loud. Tragic, but beautiful. I hear songs, whispers, stories. They’re telling me so much. It’s exhausting but I don’t want them to stop.” 

 

“Would it help to stay quiet?” He asked. She shook her head against him. 

 

“I feel so full; like I might burst.” 

 

“Then tell us what you hear,” Cullen said, “I’ve missed a few lessons lately.” Beside him, Amarantha snorted. 

 

Softly, Amarantha spoke, telling him fractures of stories and lore, bits and pieces that came so fast she could hardly start one story before she found herself speaking about another. At one point it became too much and she fell silent, her hand wrapped around his torso, fingers idly rubbing her sister’s outstretched arm. “You called me ‘vhenan’ at the Well,” she murmured tiredly. 

 

“I did.” 

 

She hummed, a soft but pleased sound. “I like it when you do that.” 

 

“I’m right here,” Amaryllis said just as sleepily, and Cullen’s form trembled in silent laughter. 

 

“Yes you are,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. He did the same for Amarantha. “You’re both right here.” 

 

\---------------------------

 

 

The battle was over. They had marched into a controlled situation, Cullen’s soldier’s handling most of the grunt work, but Bull, Dorian, the Chargers, and the others had taken great pleasure in finishing up the job, slaying demons and darkspawn and Venatori. But just as they’d been truly getting into it, the enemy had seized up, turned, and fled in a great and wild commotion. Bull’s ax lowered to the ground with a soggy and heavy thud. 

 

“What?” He asked, confused, looking around suspiciously to see what would have caused the creatures to scatter. A few feet away, Dorian lowered his staff and leaned against it heavily. 

 

“I guess that means we win.” 

 

“Yeah, and that’s what worries me,” Bull said, moving over to inspect Dorian. “You’re favoring your left leg,” he mentioned, “You okay?” 

 

Dorian allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, then nodded. “Fine,” he replied, “Twisted it about an hour ago. It’s nothing a potion won’t heal when we reach camp.” He waved Bull away, “I’m fine. I promise.” 

 

“Yeah you are,” Sera said, bounding up to them like an excited puppy, “Did you see that one demon you hit with that burst of magic?  _ Splat!” _ She said, smacking her hands together, rubbing them while making some choice sound effects. She then laughed. “It was awesome.” 

 

“I’m glad I was able to entertain you,” Dorian said dryly, “But I’m more concerned about why the battle is suddenly over.” 

 

“Good question.” The group turned to see Krem standing there, nursing a sore arm. “I’m fine,” he said to the Bull, getting that question out of the way first. “I assume you don’t know what happened?” 

 

“No idea,” Bull said, lifting his ax and attaching it to its holster on his back. “Best to get to the nearest camp and see what’s going on. The rest of the Chargers appeared after a moment, Blackwall and Cole in line. “Where’s ma’am?” Bull asked. 

 

“Here, darling,” Vivienne said, stepping out of some bushes, looking as put together and clean as ever. Even Dorian’s hair was disheveled from the fight, but Vivienne looked pristine. “The soldiers I was with have gone on to camp. I thought I heard you so I came to check. It looks as if all those foul creatures have fled.” 

 

“But what would make them do that?” Asked Dalish. 

 

“No doubt whatever our Inquisitor got up to in that temple caused them to become afraid,” Vivienne reasoned. “We will know more once we return to camp.” She spared a glance at Dorian. “Can you walk, darling?” 

 

Dorian shifted his staff to the other hand. “I’ll be a bit slow, but I can manage,” he said as much to Bull as to her. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a big boy.” He passed a wink toward Bull, then stepped forward, the limp only barely noticeable. The others followed the two mages back to camp to find out what was happening. 

 

When they arrived about an hour later, the camp was in great commotion. Bull took a moment to study everyone, then confirmed, “I think Corypheus’ troops retreated.” 

 

“Seems right, given the….celebration,” Vivienne said, wrinkling her nose. 

 

“Well, someone go find out the details,” Dorian said, “I’m going to go complain to a healer.” 

 

Later that evening, once information had been passed and gathered, Bull found Dorian in his tent, leg healed but stretched out in front of him. “Knock, knock,” Bull said as he stepped inside. “No one saw, just so you know.” 

 

“I’m not particularly worried about that at the moment,” Dorian shrugged. “I’m more interested in news. What happened? Where are Amarantha and Amaryllis?” 

 

“They’re….back at Skyhold,” Bull said, making himself comfortable in the tent, crossing his legs to try to take up less space, a feat that was nearly impossible for the large Qunari. 

 

“They’re….what?” Dorian gave Bull a look of pure confusion. 

 

“Yeah,” Bull said, “Cullen was with them. He sent a message through Leliana. They were in the temple, Boss drank from a magic well or something and now has a bunch of voices in her head, Corypheus showed up all pissed off, they ran through another one of those creepy mirrors, and landed in Skyhold. She’s apparently weak and has a massive headache-” 

 

“No kidding,” Dorian murmured. 

 

“Sprout is fine, Solas is fine, Cullen, Cass, Varric, Morrigan. Even Calpernia.” 

 

Dorian blinked slowly at the last name. “I’m sorry,” he balked, “I must have misheard you.  _ Calpernia _ is with them? The same Calpernia that I, quite selflessly and bravely I may say, risked my life to beat to Haven so I could warn you about her?  _ She’s in Skyhold _ ?!” 

 

“Shh,” Bull, said, finger going to his lips, “Not so loud. It’s not something they’re just telling everyone. But yes. Apparently Leliana managed to get some intel on what Corypheus had planned for her, and Amarantha told her about it. Apparently she wasn’t entirely…..trusting of her old boss anyway. When she learned he was going to do some weird magic shit to her that would make her a mindless slave, she turned and agreed to help us. She’s locked up right now, probably more for her own protection than anything.” 

 

“I’m sure there will be no shortage of people who would be clamoring for her head,” Dorian agreed, “I wasn’t even part of the Inquisition at that point and I’d love to snap that pretty little neck of hers.” 

 

“Mmm,” Bull groaned, “I love it when you get angry. It’s hot.” 

 

“Oh shut up,” Dorian said, kicking at Bull’s leg with his uninjured one. 

 

“Yeah, shut it you weirdos,” Sera called from just outside the tent. “I’m already gonna have nightmares about these demons an’ shit. I don’t need you two adding fuel to that fire!” 

 

“I got plenty of fuel,” Bull called out to her, “So promise me a round at the ‘Rest and I’ll behave!” 

 

Sera poked her head in the tent, eyes tightly shut, “You can have  _ three  _ rounds on me so long as you’re quiet!” 

 

“I don’t think that’s worth it,” Dorian mused, glancing at Bull with mischief in his eyes. “Besides, we forgot the gag, so no promises.” 

 

Sera squealed in horror at that and shot out of the tent faster than one of her arrows. Dorian bent forward, laughing. “Oh, I never thought I’d actually  _ enjoy _ people knowing about this,” he said merrily, “But I’m finding it’s not so bad.” 

 

Bull smirked and studied Dorian for a moment. It had been interesting, their coming together. Dorian had been unlike himself, shy, wary, but eager, and Bull had found that what had initially started as an intrigue to know the Vint a little better- in more ways than one- and turned into a deep and genuine desire for the man. Not just the physical: Bull was a connoisseur of sex, but he found he enjoyed the quiet moments of the before and after. Sex was great- curtain-burning great- but Dorian was as sharp and wise as any man or woman Bull had ever met, and he enjoyed exploring Dorian’s mind as much as he enjoyed exploring his body. 

 

He loved him, Bull realized as he watched the mage fiddle with a cup of tea while he snickered at his remark that had disturbed Sera. He was comfortable enough now to joke about their relationship to others, something Dorian had guarded closely before. Amarantha knew, he’d seen to that himself, but Dorian was a private man. He had reason to be, but this was him opening up, in his own way. Bull appreciated it immensely. 

 

Moving so that he was seated beside his lover, Bull reached out and let his hand rest on Dorian’s thigh. “Nah. Not bad at all.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone still reading this? 
> 
> Mostly posting because this fic means a lot to me and I don't want to leave it abandoned.


	31. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations are made- good, bad, and surprising.

Chapter 31: Interlude

 

A few days later found the Inner Circle of the Inquisition returning to Skyhold with a few soldiers who were due to report and replenish some much-needed supplies. Varric had written his own report to the group detailing- somewhat vaguely- what had transpired in the temple. When the others made it back, Bull, Cole, Krem, and Dorian immediately made their way up to the Inquisitor’s quarters, where they found her sitting behind her desk, writing frantically while Amaryllis sat atop the wooden structure watching with intense focus.

 

“So what’s this about you having voices in your head?” Dorian asked with a hand on his hip. Amarantha didn’t look up, but her lips twitched in a smile.

 

Cole spoke up, “She drank from the Well of Sorrows; there are thousands of years of history in her head. Writing it down to get it out but more pours in, like a jug overflowing with water. ‘I might drown but the more I drink the more I thirst. It’s too much but it’s what I need.’”

 

“Which means?” Bull asked the spirit boy.

 

“It means,” Amaryllis spoke up as she slid off the desk, “That my sister now has the knowledge of a bunch of dead elves in her head, and they’re telling her about the history that we lost.”

 

“So, a big deal, then,” Bull surmised. Amarantha dropped the quill onto the table and gripped her hands together, wincing as she did so.

 

“It’s a very big deal,” Amarantha said, standing. “I’ve had a headache for three straight days. And my hand feels like it’s going to fall off.”

 

“Does writing it down really help?” Krem asked. Amarantha nodded.

 

“Surprisingly yes. It helps quiet some of the voices. It helps me sort my thoughts. It’s been so long since anyone has partaken from the Well, that I think they’re all clamoring to speak at once.”

 

“Rather rude of them,” Dorian gruffed as he stepped forward to pull Amarantha in a hug. “But you’re all right?”

 

“Yes,” she nodded, “Solas is angry with me, but there’s nothing to be done about that.”

 

“Ah, he’ll get over it,” Bull said, “Though I gotta admit, it’s weird. You have a bunch of dead guys swimming around in your head talking to you.”

 

“It’s not the _strangest_ thing that’s happened to us,” Amarantha shrugged.

 

“Pretty damn close,” Bull remarked.

 

“At any rate,” Amarantha said as she moved back to the desk, “My people have tried to recover some of this for centuries. I’m in no rush to run out to the nearest clan and explain everything to them, but….I think when this is all over, it might be nice to sit down and fully focus on everything.”

 

“Well, if you need help writing, let me know,” Dorian offered. “I have fantastic penmanship.”

 

That caused Amarantha to laugh, then nod toward her sister. “She’s already written about thirty pages for me. But I’m getting the hang of it. It’s not as loud as it was.”

 

“How’s Cullen handling it?” Krem asked.

 

Amaryllis smirked, “He’s very quiet.”

 

“So, not happy.”

 

“Oh, no,” Amarantha agreed, “He’s also very sympathetic to my headache, and would actually probably be very put out to know you’re all here and speaking above a whisper.”

 

“Well, then,” Dorian said, “We shall be off to let you and your voices talk. At any rate, I could use a bath.”

 

“Yeah you could,” replied Bull, who was rewarded with a smack from Dorian.

 

Krem rolled his eyes at the two, but followed them out, while Cole remained.

 

“So many voices,” he murmured, “You could silence them, but you won’t. Why?”

 

“Because they need to be heard,” Amarantha said softly. “ _I_ need to hear them.”

 

“Don’t drown,” he advised, “Voices pull and tug.” Then he was gone.

 

Later that evening, Amarantha finally dropped the pen. She was exhausted, and now that the others were back there would no doubt be an early morning meeting to retrieve their reports and figure out the next course of action. She already knew what to do, but she had yet to talk to the others. Stretching, Amarantha shut her eyes and relaxed, willing the voices to finally quiet. She’d understood fairly early on how to drown out the constant chaos of their words, but she’d been so hungry to hear them, so eager to learn anything she could about her people, that she’d let them all clamor away, soaking in everything she could and writing down what required further reflection and inspection. She’d written almost nonstop since she returned, only stopping long enough to appease Cullen who came by every few hours to check on her.

 

Shifting her thoughts back to the voices, she searched through them, listening for anything to catch her attention. She had learned so much already, though most of it still came to her in fragments. She’d dedicated stacks of paper to varying subjects so that things were at least somewhat organized, but her thoughts were traveling much faster than her hand could write.

 

Among the array of information however, were pieces that seemed louder than others. Pieces of information that _shouted_ to be heard, noticed, and Amarantha now focused on those, finding it oddly easy to sift through the thoughts and memories until she came across the subject that had been gnawing at her nearly all day.

 

_Images flashed in her mind of a young woman receiving her Vallaslin. She was on her back, silent and still, save for a few tears trickling down her cheeks, mingling with the blood and ink that was being etched into her skin. Above her, another elf focused intensely, carefully marking the younger girl, who was dressed in a ragged outfit that was in desperate need of repair._

 

_When the elf finished, she stepped back from the elf receiving the Vallaslin and turned to someone else: an elder elvish man, whose face was suspiciously bare. “She is finished, ser,” the woman said, and when she moved, Amarantha saw that the young girl’s hands were bound to the table to prevent movement._

 

_“Excellent,” the man said in Elvhen, “Escort her to her quarters. Her duties will begin tomorrow.”_

 

_Untying the girl, she was led out of the room._

 

_The image shifted, and suddenly there was a crowd of people, all dressed similarly, with varying marks on their faces. They crowded around someone Amarantha could not see, praising and thanking him. The man, who was covered with a fur cloak, ran his hands over the face of a young elven boy, not much older than Amarantha herself. In an instant, the markings were swallowed by a shimmering blue light, and when it dissipated, the once bright blue marks that had lined the boy’s cheeks and forehead were gone._

 

_With eyes shining bright with gratitude, the boy reached forward to catch the hands of the man. Pressing a kiss to the knuckles he cried, “Ma serannas, Fen’Harel!”_

 

Amarantha sat up straight, tears in her eyes. Her gaze snapped over to the mirror hanging from the wall and she stood, rushing to it and tracing the branches that stretched out under her eyes. Her grandmother had not cared one way or the other about the Vallaslin, though Amarantha doubted she knew this, whatever it meant. Young, seemingly poor elves being forced to accept the mark of the gods seemed strange, but Amarantha found she didn’t quite know what to make of it. Deciding to find the one person who might know what her vision had meant, Amarantha quickly adjusted her dress- a simple piece of Dalish design, pulled on her slippers, and made her way to the rotunda.  

 

Solas was upon her the moment she walked into the room, taking her by the arm and leading her to the sofa to sit. “You look unwell,” he said, concerned, sitting next to her, studying her features closely. “Has something happened?”

 

“Solas, I’m fine,” she insisted as she ran her fingers through her hair, catching in some tangles.

 

“I merely worry, da’len,” he said, calming himself, “You have meddled with magic you do not truly comprehend.”

 

“You’ve been talking with Morrigan,” she accused gently. The apostate shrugged.

 

“She believes as I that it is not wise for you to have bound yourself to an ancient god.”

 

“Yes, well,” Amarantha said, allowing her exasperation to show, “I did. And I now have the power and knowledge of the Well, and whether a god appears and orders me about is yet to be determined, but I am happy with my choice, and I would _love_ to not be questioned at every turn over it.”

 

Solas softened at that. “My apologies,” he said, “I did not mean to anger you so.”

 

Amarantha let her head rest in her hand. “No, I’m sorry, hahren,” she sighed, “I just….I know you’re wary, and skeptical, but as someone who has talked for _hours_ about your journeys in the Fade….can you not understand? I have memories. I see battles and texts, and rituals and things older than either of us could ever dream of being….and it’s right _here_ ,” she touched her temple as she looked up at him. “I know things my people have searched _centuries_ to know. I can tell them. I can help my people. I can restore some of what was lost. Can you not appreciate that? I don’t care for the power. I will use it to stop Corypheus, but otherwise, I can fill in some of the blanks that have haunted my people since Arlathan fell!”

 

Solas considered this for a moment, then stepped forward and cupped her face in his hands. “You are a rare and marvelous spirit,” he praised, “I sometimes forget just how much I admire you.”

 

“You admire me?” She asked, surprised.

 

“Of course,” Solas said, “You have overcome so much, and you handle yourself with such conviction and grace. And your sister, too. So much power in so small a frame. She will shake this world to its very core. I am honored to know you both.”

 

Reaching forward, Amarantha pulled Solas into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered, her words muffled from where she had buried her head into his shoulder.

 

“No,” Solas replied, cradling her head in his hands, taking a moment to relish the moment. “Thank you.”

 

She allowed herself to be held for a long moment, then finally she pulled back. “Since we’ve come to that understanding,” she said, hand pressed to the side of her head, “I have a question.”

 

He nodded. “By all means.”

 

“I saw a vision,” she began slowly, “Of a girl receiving her Vallaslin,” she paused and then added, “She was _forced_.”

 

The look on Solas’ face told her that this was not news to him. She continued. “The girl was crying, but she stayed silent. And when they were finished marking her- it was the symbol for Falon’Din. But when they were done, they _untied her_ . They had her strapped down and some old elf approved of it and sent her away. He said her _duties would begin tomorrow_.” She looked pained, weary, and haunted by all that she now understood.

 

“Solas,” she asked, “What exactly _are_ the Vallaslin?”

 

He was silent for a long moment. He looked old suddenly, just as pained as when she’d watched him try and fail to save his spirit friend. Ages of pain seemed to linger under the surface of his gaze, and Amarantha wondered if once Solas bore the marks as well; perhaps had found a similar magic that the mysterious man had used in her vision.

 

“They are slave markings,” Solas said at last, grim. “Used by the elven elite to brand their servants with their house god. Many ran away, called to the side of Fen’Harel, who used a rare and powerful magic to remove the markings to free those that wished to leave their master’s side.”

 

Her hand trailed up to touch her face, the branches that had always bound her to Mythal suddenly burning within her skin. “Slave markings?” She whispered, disgusted, “ _This_ is what our clan keeps? Marking ourselves as _slaves?!”_

 

Solas looked up at her, sorrowful. “Your clan did not know,” he said, defending them for perhaps the first time. “It is barely an excuse, but one born out of ignorance; not malice.”

 

Amarantha sat still, wide-eyed and astonished. Her clan had taken up slave markings as part of their heritage, and she’d let herself be marked! Her fingers scratched lightly at the trails on her skin, thinking back to the day she’d received her Vallaslin. How she had chosen Mythal in honor of her mother and grandmother, choosing the Mother because she admired the women in her life so greatly. She’d envisioned herself being a mother like them, like Mythal. She’d taken the branches as a testament to the women who had raised her, to the god who had mothered them all.

 

She’d done nothing more than brand herself a slave. She looked at Solas, ashamed. No wonder he looked down upon her people, she thought. _We are nothing but fools._

 

“Amarantha.”

 

Blinking away tears, her eyes resumed their focus and she looked upon Solas, the man whose wisdom and counsel she so greatly admired and trusted. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She asked, not angry but curious.

 

Solas shook his head and looked away. “I knew it would cause you pain,” he said, “And after everything you have been through, I thought to spare you this.” He returned his gaze to her. “I know you doubt. Question. I can see it in your eyes. Your sister struggles as well. To tell you the truth, I feared it would be a devastating blow.”

 

“Is this why you didn’t want me to drink from the Well?” She asked, curling her legs up and resting her chin on her knees, “Because you knew our history was so ugly?”

 

“What I have seen from my travels in the Fade has shown me a great deal of pain and suffering,” Solas remarked softly, reaching out to lay his hand on her cheek, his thumb stroking the Vallaslin. “I know it is your desire to restore knowledge to your people.”

 

She nodded weakly, tears streaming down her face. “I suppose this is the true cost,” she said, more to herself than to him, “The truth couldn’t have been pleasant for us to be where we are now.”

 

“The benefit of hindsight,” Solas agreed, wiping her eyes,“Is there anything else you have seen that troubles you?”

 

Amarantha shrugged. “I suppose I’m curious as to why Fen’Harel is the one who freed him. What purpose did that serve him?”

 

Solas pondered a moment before answering. “Perhaps he thought the enslavement of the people wrong.”

 

Amarantha considered this. “Maybe Grandmamae was right about him,” she said, then offered Solas a half-smile, “Have I told you she always referred to him as a harmless pup?”

 

Solas smiled at that, soft and thoughtful. “I cannot fathom he would take kindly to that.”

 

“I don’t know,” Amarantha said, wrinkling her nose as she thought of her grandmother’s remarks, “I’m certain if anyone could have charmed the Dread Wolf, it would have been her.”

 

“Perhaps she did,” Solas suggested, “And that’s how she knew.”

 

“Oh I doubt that!” Amarantha laughed, “I’m sure she’d have told us if she’d ever met him!”

 

Their discussion changed after that, reverting back to information Amarantha had discovered in the Well. The orb was mentioned, though it was a brief thought, merely that she knew the orb belonged to Fen’Harel and that Corypheus had managed to get his hands on it.

 

“I want to know _how_ ,” she stressed, hand sparking in aggravation. She paused and glanced down to it, then back up to Solas, her gaze a bit sheepish. “Sorry,” she said. “Working on that.”

 

“Does it still hurt?” Solas asked, gesturing for her hand. She offered it to him willingly.

 

“No,” she said, “Sometimes it gets sore. It tingles a lot. But I think I’m used to it. Or it’s used to me. If I strain myself I can feel it burn inside, but otherwise I don’t feel it quite as prominently as before.”

 

“I am pleased to hear it,” Solas replied. “Perhaps you are adapting to the magic better than any of us hoped.”

 

“I think so,” she agreed, “I can rip open rifts and seal them shut with barely any effort.” She paused and flexed her hand, still resting in Solas’ grip. “I wonder what _else_ I can do with it?”

 

Solas’ gaze shifted to one of affection. “An excellent question,” he replied, releasing her hand, “One perhaps best saved until Corypheus is defeated.”

 

“Of course,” she agreed, “I’ve taken up enough of your time as it is.”

 

“It was time well spent,” Solas said, standing with her. She reached forward to hug him, and he returned the embrace with surprising affection. When she released him, she tucked her hair behind her ears, fingers lingering on her cheek.

 

“If you have time,” she said, “Could you look into magic that could remove Vallaslin?”

 

“You wish to remove yours?” He asked. She shrugged one shoulder.

 

“I don’t know,” she said, thinking for a long moment, “Yes. I don’t want to bear the markings of a slave.”

 

“Then it just so happens,” Solas said softly, hand trailing up to linger on the branches, “That I know a spell.”

 

Her eyes widened, sparkling and hopeful, “You do?”

 

“Yes,” he said, voice soft as if he were sharing a great secret. Perhaps, in a way, he was. “It’s a rather simple spell, all things considered. I have seen the images you speak of in the Fade. I could do it. It may cause some discomfort, though,” he paused, a soft, bittersweet breath of a laugh escaping him, “I suppose it won’t hurt as much as it did when you received it.”

 

Amarantha reached her hand up to touch the other cheek, tracing the branches she’d long worn. It _had_ hurt. A great deal. But she’d prepared, determined to accept the mark, and had borne the pain with the required silence, thinking of the beautiful branches that would mark her as a servant of Mythal’s. Now she wanted it removed; as a matter of pride, defiance. She no longer wanted to wear something that marked her as a slave. As something _less than._ She wanted to restore her people, and if that meant facing some harsh truths such as this, then she needed to embrace it, accept it

 

“I-” she hesitated. “I-”

“Sleep on it, da’len,” Solas recommended gently, his hand coming up to trace the branch opposite her. “If you still wish them removed tomorrow, we will make time.”

 

Amarantha considered his sage advice and nodded. “Yes. Tomorrow,” she said, swallowing thickly. “That’s probably best.”

 

“I am sorry you have learned something that distresses you so,” he whispered, trying to offer comfort, “But you will be better for it, no matter your choice.”

 

“Thank you, _hahren,”_ Amarantha whispered before wiping away imaginary wrinkles from her outfit and bidding Solas a good night and slipping out of the rotunda, her feet automatically leading her toward Cullen’s office. She was conflicted, and hoped perhaps an outsider's perspective on things might help her clear her thoughts.

 

When she reached his office, she was dismayed to find he was not there, and after questioning some of his soldiers, she headed toward the small chapel near the garden, where one soldier claimed he’s seen Cullen enter not an hour before.  

 

She reached the chapel and peaked inside the door which was not quite shut all the way. She saw Cullen kneeling before the statue of Andraste, a few stray candles lit before her, many of them low. She slipped inside and quietly moved forward before settling to her knees beside Cullen. He looked up almost instantly, surprised at the intrusion, but visibly relaxed at the sight of Amarantha.

 

“My dear,” he said, rising up from his bowed position to greet her.

 

“Don’t stop on my account,” she whispered, “I can be quiet.”

 

He seemed to appreciate the offer, but did not resume his prayer. He shifted so that he was kneeling on one knee, elbows resting on the flat plain of his thigh as he stared questioningly at Andraste. Moving closer to him, Amarantha laid a thin hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to her. Her own problems could wait. “Are you alright?”

 

He looked conflicted for a long moment, as if he were afraid to reveal anything that might make her look down upon him. At length he looked away, caught her hand in his and stood, gently tugging her up with him. Before she could question him, he pulled her into an embrace, tight and breath-taking, one hand snaked around the small of her back, the tips of her hair brushing his gloved hand, while the other cradled the back of her head, pressing her closer to him.

 

“I’m afraid,” he admitted, and it was no easy thing if the tremor in his voice was anything to go by.

 

“Afraid?” She whispered, knowing all too well that there was plenty of reason to be afraid. She was too, if she were honest with herself.

 

“Of course,” he replied, holding tighter, “You were at the Temple. You saw what Corypheus did. What happened to you-”

 

“I’m _fine_ , Cullen,” she insisted automatically. It wasn’t entirely true, but for the moment it would have to suffice.

 

“It’s not that,” he sighed, pulling away just enough to look at her properly, “I mean, it _is_. I don’t understand it, and I suppose my old habits of being suspicious of magic haven’t entirely dissolved...but there’s more than that.”

 

“You can tell me,” she encouraged, “If you want.”

 

Cullen sighed, his hand moving through her hair, over her shoulder and up to brush against her cheek. His hand trailed over her vallaslin, and it took all Amarantha's willpower not to flinch away.“When the time comes,” he said at last, “You will be thrown into that madman’s path once more. And what’s worse? I have to send you to him.”

 

“Cullen,” Amarantha breathed, sliding her hands down to wrap around his waist, “I’m afraid, too.”

 

He nodded in understanding. “I know.”

 

“But I have luck on my side,” she tried hopefully, removing one hand from him to touch the necklace where the coin rested. She’d not removed it since he’d given it to her. She wasn’t used to wearing jewelry; but this she would never take off.

 

Cullen let out a weak laugh at that. “That doesn’t help as much as I’d like,” he admitted, “But it’s a small encouragement, I suppose.”

 

Amarantha rested her head against his shoulder, falling silent for several long moments. The feel of him in her arms, the comforting smell of leather, ink, and smoke grounding her and reminding her that she was not alone. Sometimes it was easy to feel disconnected: her clan, save her sister were gone, no one else understood the pain the mark brought. Solas helped, but not even he truly understood.

 

But in this moment, she knew Cullen was for her. She knew he tried, and she knew that he would stand at her side and face Corypheus if she were to ask it of him. She wouldn’t, but knowing that he _would_ was comfort enough.

 

“Corypheus has tried to take me down more than once,” she whispered, trying to encourage herself as well as Cullen, “And he’s yet to succeed. I’ll see that the record sticks.”

 

“Please do,” Cullen said, pressing a kiss to her ear, “I already had to watch you march to your death once. I cannot do it again.”

 

“And you won’t have to.”

 

“You cannot promise-”

 

“But I _am_ ,” Amarantha said, moving to look Cullen in the eyes. “Cullen. I.... I am afraid. But, beyond that; beyond knowing that I have to stop Corypheus- that I _want_ to stop Corypheus- I have something else that pushes me to fight. Every time it gets to be too much, every time I think that I can’t do this, that I don’t know what I’m doing...I remember two things: my sister and you. I want to see my sister grow up and I want to marry you and have children and a mabari and a wonderful life together. And Corypheus is standing in the way of that.”

 

Cullen’s eyes darkened at her words, hungry and wicked. He released her only so that he could grab her hand and half drag her out of the chapel. “What are you doing?” She asked, a confused laugh escaping her. Cullen stopped long enough to turn to her and say, “Taking you to bed,” before resuming his march toward his office.

 

They made it to the office, but not the bed.

 

\------------------------------

 

 

“I’m not allowed in the tavern,” Amaryllis said as she followed Cole through a hallway, eyes glittering with excitement even as she obediently but unenthusiastically protested where Cole was leading her.

 

“We’re not going to the tavern,” he said as he kept walking, “We’re going to my quarters. They just happen to be in the tavern.”

 

It was as logical as it could be for Cole, so Amaryllis followed him, deciding that it was worth the risk. Cole opened a door that to another passageway, then a few feet further opened another door and stood back. “Ladies are supposed to go first,” he said, “Though I’m not sure why.”

 

“Because-” Amaryllis stated, then paused. _“Why_ do ladies go first?”

 

“Maybe it’s just polite,” Cole mused as he turned and entered ahead of Amaryllis. “But I don’t know why it would matter who goes first.” He scratched his head over his hat, “Humans are confusing.”

 

“Yes they are,” Amaryllis agreed as she made herself comfortable on Cole’s bedrole. She’d long since abandoned her shoes in her sister’s room so she placed her feet on the role, curling her arms around her knees. “But you try to be like them.”

 

“Yes,” Cole said after a long moment, “I like humans. But I don’t understand them. They are cruel and selfish. Hateful, harsh.” He paused, then added, “But they are also good. Kind. Funny.”

 

“We’re made up of a lot of different threads,” Amaryllis mused aloud, “And each one is necessary to make us whole.”

 

“Like a quilt,” Cole continued, excited. “Warm, comforting, solid.”

 

“Quilts are nice,” Amaryllis agreed, “Wrapping up in a nice blanket after a long day is the best feeling.”

 

“It is,” Cole agreed, joining Amaryllis on the bedroll. “I think friends are like quilts.”

 

“Warm, solid, comforting,” Amaryllis echoed his words back to him. Cole nodded. Reaching out, Amaryllis pulled Cole’s hat off his head, then dropped it on her own. Tilting back to look at him from under the wide brim, she grinned. “Am I a quilt?”

 

“You’re the warmest quilt,” Cole said, smiling as he pulled the hat down over Amaryllis’ eyes. She laughed at that, blindly reaching out to playfully push at the spirit boy, who caught her hands in his, holding them close as he inspected them.

 

“You have nice hands,” he remarked. Amaryllis threw her head back to try to get the hat out of her eyes, repeating the motion until it was not quite so far down her forehead. She still had to hold her head back to regard him.

 

“Thank you?”

 

“They don’t hurt people. You help. Heal.”

 

“They’ve hurt a lot of people.”

 

“But only out of necessity,” Cole reasoned. “War turns everyone’s hands red. But you like to help.”

“I do,” she agreed, “And so do you.”

 

“Yes,” Cole said. “I like to help.” He let go of her hands, and she pulled the hat off her head, letting it rest on her lap while she picked at the threads.

 

“Can you help me?” She asked, looking up at Cole with wide, innocent eyes.

 

“I think I can. You hurt.”

 

“I’m angry.”

 

“That too.”

 

Amaryllis sighed. “Sister hurts too. And I know I can talk to her and she can talk to me. And we _do_ , it’s just….she has Cullen now. And I’m not jealous, I just…I want someone to tell me that it’s wrong to be mad at the gods for what happened to my family. And she can’t do that.”

 

“Because she’s angry too.”

 

“I don’t think she knows what to think anymore. You weren’t at the Temple, but… it was so pretty. It was so old and I kept thinking Grandmamae would be so happy here. She would have loved it. She would have dragged that ancient elf aside and demand he tell her everything. But then I got mad because it’s not fair. My grandmother is gone. My parents were killed and I prayed. I _prayed_ , Cole. Every night. I prayed for protection. For them, myself, my sister. And then all of this happens and I just...why don’t they _care_?”

 

“They do, I think,” Cole said thoughtfully. “In their own way.”

 

“So what? I should just….forgive them?”

 

“I...don’t know.”

 

“Me neither.”

 

Cole reached out and laid his hands on top of Amaryllis’, stilling her motion of playing with the hat. “Maybe that’s okay,” he asked, “Maybe it’s okay not to know.”

 

“I don’t like not knowing.”

 

“No one knows everything,” Cole shrugged. “And maybe that’s okay.”

 

Amaryllis considered that for a moment. “Maybe,” she said last, “But I’m not sure.”

 

\------------------------------

 

Moonlight drifted in through the hole of the ceiling, allowing a chill to permeate the air. But snuggled under the fur throw, neither Amarantha nor Cullen felt the cold. Instead there was only warmth, a sweet, content feeling that chased away dark thoughts and lingering fears. Neither were asleep as it was still early, but they snuggled together, naked bodies tangling together in a desperate attempt to remain close. They were torn apart at every turn, with her leaving and with paperwork and the general running of Skyhold. This moment was for them. The reprieve from everything that had happened- that _would_ happen- and much needed one.

 

“This is nice,” Amarantha murmured, keeping her voice soft as if speaking louder would alert the world to their presence. For the moment they were forgotten, and they both preferred it that way.

 

“It is,” Cullen agreed, fingers trailing abstract patterns over her arm. “I could get used to this.”

 

“So could I,” she breathed, head tucked comfortably under his chin. She was silent for a long moment, then whispered Cullen’s name. He looked down at her, waiting for her to continue. “I learned something,” she whispered, “Disturbing.”

 

Cullen sat up at that, pulling Amarantha up with him. She held the blanket to her chest to help fight off the chill, head tipped downward which allowed her long hair to spill over her shoulders and hide her face. Reaching out, Cullen touched her, silently encouraging her to open up to him. At length she did, her eyes wet with tears. “Cullen,” she whispered, voice cracking as she stifled a sob, “I’m wearing slave markings.”

 

The Commander blinked. “What?”

 

Gesturing to her face, Amarantha shivered, “The Vallaslin,” she whispered, “Is nothing more than an ancient tradition that noble elves used to mark their slaves. Whatever god that house worshiped, they branded their servants.”

 

Unable to say anything, Cullen was silent for a long moment, watching as his beloved struggled to express the truth she’d uncovered. Eventually he asked, “Did you learn this from the Well?”

 

She nodded.

 

“And you’re certain it’s true?”

 

Again, a nod. “Solas confirmed it.” She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s barbaric,” she hissed after a moment. “We have _so much_ lost to us, and the one thing we find- and _keep_ \- is a mark of oppression!” She let loose a bitter laugh. “Abelas was right. We are fools. We know _nothing_.”

 

“That isn’t true,” Cullen said softly, gently tugging her into his embrace. He moved so that she rested between his legs, back pressed to his chest. “ _You_ know the truth,” he said, “I will not lie to you and say I’m fine with this Well business, because I’m not. It worries me just as much as anything else. But you have a chance to do what you’ve always wanted: help your people learn. Think of all the good that might come of others knowing the truth. Yours may be the last generation to wear this mark; your sister won’t have to do it. No one else will bound by ignorance- because of _you_.”

 

“It will be a hard thing to tell them,” she said, “We Dalish are rather set in our ways.”

 

“Well, if they won’t listen to the Inquisitor, then they are all fools.”

 

She knew he was trying to be sweet, but his words rang harsh and true. It was unlikely the clans would take well to such news. It was no pleasant thing, the history she’d uncovered; it would haunt her for years to come: the screams, the pain, the _truth_.

 

Turning her head slightly, Amarantha spoke softly, “On top of everything else. On top of what you confessed to me earlier. On top of the fear and the stress and the uncertainty, and now _this_. It’s so much. I know I took on the Well knowing that it would be a great cost, but… I wasn’t prepared for this.”

 

“I can’t imagine how you must feel,” Cullen remarked, watching her carefully, “You’ve always worn them so proudly. I’ve become fond of them. I hate to think that they mean something so…”

 

“Inhumane?”

 

He let out a breath, “That’s one word for it.”

 

“Well,” Amarantha said, tucking her hair behind a pointed ear, a small scar forming from Briala’s knife, “I talked to Solas. He knows a spell.”

 

“A spell…” Cullen repeated, brow raising curiously.

 

“Yes,” she said, “He can remove the vallaslin. Permanently.”

 

“Is that something you want?” Cullen asked, adjusting so that he was more comfortable against his headrest. “To remove it?”

 

“I can’t stand the sight of it now,” Amarantha admitted with a weary sigh. “I’ve been questioning so much lately, and I… I’m angry at the gods for how neglectful they’ve been. I still think, if _any_ of them heard me when Haven fell…. It was Fen’Harel.” She glanced up at him, sheepish, “I heard wolves. Howling. Leading me. It can’t have been a coincidence.”

 

“Well, I may not believe in Fen’Harel,” Cullen said, “But I believe that if that’s what you feel happened, then that’s what happened.”

 

She smiled, softly. “Thank you.”

 

“Will you have Solas remove the mark?”

 

Amarantha shrugged. “I’m so tempted. He recommended I sleep on it. I don’t know. I was hoping you might tell me your opinion.”

 

Cullen blinked. “My opinion?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well,” he said, scratching the back of his head, “I suppose it’s similar to lyrium…”

 

“How so?” Amarantha’s interest was caught.

 

“I stopped taking lyrium because I no longer wanted to be bound by it, and by what it represented in my life,” Cullen explained, “I would imagine, that, were I wearing vallaslin rather than taking lyrium, and I found out it represented something that I found to be contrary to what I valued, I would remove it.”

 

“That makes sense,” Amarantha agreed softly, and it did. Cullen’s change might be longer lasting and more subtle- unless one knew to look closer- but he was right. In principle, it was a similar enough comparison that Amarantha suddenly had her answer.

 

“I want it gone.”

 

“Are you certain?”

 

She waited, waited for a sinking feeling that told her she _wasn’t_ certain. None came. She smiled. “Yes.”

 

Cullen pulled her to him. “Then get some rest, and first thing in the morning, we’ll go to Solas?”

 

“We?”

 

“What, you think I’m going to let you go through this alone?”

 

“It’s a simple spell, Cullen.”

 

“And I simply want to support you,” he said as his embrace tightened. “Neither of us have to be alone, anymore,” he whispered, “In any way.”

 

 

\-------------------------

 

“What about him?”

 

“They ran out of his favorite jam in the tavern.”

 

“What flavor?”

 

Cole was silent for a long moment. “Apricot.”

 

The two had wandered out of Cole’s quarters and onto the battlements for some air. Amaryllis loved Skyhold and all its passages and grand hallways but she was still a child of the trees and longed for the outside. So they sat on the ledge overlooking the courtyard, feet swinging merrily, tapping against the stone as they watched the residents of the fortress. In an effort to make her feel better, Cole had looked at one young woman and spoke about her hurt in the cryptic, poetic way that he was prone to, and Amaryllis had asked him about others. Now she was smiling and laughing and they were playing a lighthearted game in which Amaryllis pointed to someone passing by, and Cole told her something about them.

 

“I’ve never had apricot jam.”

 

“It reminds him of his grandmother. She had a farm with apricot trees and he would pick them with her and listen as she told stories of her youth while they made jam.”

 

Amaryllis sighed wistfully, head tilting to the side. “That sounds nice.”

 

“He likes to eat it because it’s a piece of home now that he’s far away.”

 

“It’s sad, but it’s also nice,” Amaryllis decided. Cole nodded, then looked down to see Varric walking out of the tavern. Suddenly Cole spoke again.

 

“Tall, like a mountain, but soft like the feathers of my favorite quill. Hands that are stained with blood but cleanse me with each touch. She’s so beautiful. Love has always been pain but with her it feels warm. Like sitting next to the hearth after being out in the rain. Like the flickering of candles and a good wine. Better. Sweeter.”

 

“Wow,” Amaryllis breathed, “Even his thoughts sound like he’s written them a hundred times.”

 

“He has,” Cole said, “In his heart he’s written them again and again. Once with longing; now with purpose.”

 

“Wait,” Amaryllis blinked. “Cole….who is he thinking about?”

 

The boy pondered for a moment. “I...don’t think that’s something I should say. I’m not supposed to talk about private thoughts.”

 

“You just did,” she pointed out.

 

“Yes, but it was loud,” he reasoned, “I think part of being human means that you don’t reveal secrets that aren’t meant to be told.”

 

She crossed her arms and turned to face him. “If I guess will you tell me?”

 

Cole considered that. “That seems fair.”

 

“Lady Cassandra.”

 

Blinking, Cole looked at her with wide-eyed confusion and surprise. “How did you-”

 

“I KNEW IT!” Amaryllis screeched, smacking her hand on the stone in her excitement. Below, Varric turned at the sound, looking around curiously until he glanced up to see the two of them sitting on the stone.

 

“What are you two doing?” He asked, his tone fatherly in its suspicion and concern.

 

“Nothing!” The two shouted back. After a beat, Amaryllis called out, “But I told you so!” Then spun and hopped onto the stone walkway and rushed off, laughing while Cole followed her.

 

Varric’s brow furrowed in confusion for a long moment before he groaned, hand coming up to lightly smack at his forehead. “Ah, shit.”

 

\----------------------------

 

 

“Oh, Creators, what now?”

 

Amarantha was lacing up her boot when she heard the shrill sound of her sister’s laughter ringing outside the room. It was late, well past dinner, and the two of them were planning to make a quick stop at the Herald’s Rest for a bit of food. Amarantha was convinced some air and a good meal would help him and she promised to brew a tea of her grandmother’s creation to help with any nausea, and Cullen hadn’t been able to refuse her offer.

 

Already fully dressed, Cullen offered to go see what the fuss outside was about. Sliding down the ladder, he moved to his office door, opening it and poking his head out. Cole and Amaryllis were running toward him at full speed, and Cullen barely had time to step out of the way before they charged inside.

 

Amaryllis tumbled to the floor, rolling onto her back and laughing hard while she struggled to breathe. Cullen glanced down at her with an amused look, then glanced at Cole who shrugged. “She was right.”

 

“Right about _what_?” Amarantha said as she descended from the ladder. Amaryllis sat up, holding herself while giggling madly.

 

“I-” she paused, then burst into giggles again, kicking her feet in merriment. The other three just stood and watched her laugh, until she finally calmed. Wiping at her eyes, she finally explained. “I told Varric to write that book for Cassandra and he did and now he’s in love with her!”

 

Amarantha’s face fell. “How did you-”

 

A small hand pointed up at Cole, who stepped back, alarmed. “I didn’t tell-!”

 

“It’s okay,” Amarantha said, moving to Cole and wrapping her arm around his shoulder comfortingly. “Just don’t go telling everyone else. They should do it themselves, when they’re ready.”

 

“Wait,” Cullen spoke up, looking at Amarantha with a look of stunned amazement on his face. “She’s _serious_?”

 

“Yes,” Amarantha said simply.

 

“Wait,” Cullen said again, scratching his head in confusion. The lyrium headache was all but gone, but a new headache threatened to take its place. “You’re saying that Cassandra Pentaghast and Varric Tethras are…. _together?”_

 

“Yes.”

 

“Wh- whe- _how?!_ And wait! You _knew_?”

 

“...Yes...”

 

Cullen threw his hands up in exasperation. “What else don’t I know about?”

 

“The Iron Bull and Dorian are in love,” Cole blurted out, before smacking a hand over his mouth, realizing too late that Cullen hadn’t actually wanted to know something else. To his credit, Cullen just stared.

 

“You’re joking,” he said helplessly.

 

“Afraid not,” Amarantha said, grinning. “Love is alive and well in Skyhold.”

 

“Apparently,” Cullen agreed. “Well. I suppose that explains some things.”

 

“I’d ask what, but there are children here,” Amarantha said, glancing at Cole and Amaryllis. Amaryllis rolled her eyes.

 

“I’m hardly a _child_ ,” she remarked, arms crossed over her chest, “And besides, I knew Varric loved her before he did.”

 

“I’m sure you did,” Amarantha agreed as she pulled her sister to her feet. “But let’s not rub it in at the moment. Cassandra likes you, but who knows what she’ll do if she finds out you know her secret.” Turning away, she and Cullen clasped hands and exited the room to head to the Rest. Cole followed silently while Amaryllis stood in her place, staring after them with a concerned frown.

  
“Wait!” She called, rushing after them, “What will she do?”

 

She was answered by her sister’s laughter.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented last chapter. You're absolute sweethearts!


	32. Pieces of the Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions are made; allies are created; information is gathered. Corypheus takes his final stand.

Chapter 32: Pieces of the Puzzle 

 

The group was gathered around the war table, staring at Amarantha with varying looks of skepticism and uncertainty. She had revealed what the voices had told her to do: summon Mythal at her altar. No one but her worshipped the Elven gods, so she hadn’t expected them to understand. Beside her, Amaryllis- who had insisted she join the meeting- stood glaring silently at the adults. Amarantha took their questions in a more patient attitude than her sister, calmly answering them as best she could. The voices provided further insight, but she knew that everyone looked at her a bit strangely every time she referenced them. 

 

“If you like, I’ll stop telling you when they have said something,” she snapped at last, fist pressed to her forehead. When they were insistent for too long, her head ached, and they’d been in this meeting nearly two hours. 

 

At her remark, Cullen sobered. “Our apologies, Inquisitor,” he said, maintaining a professional air while they were debating the next plan of attack. “But you must understand it’s hard for us when you’re the only one hearing them.” 

 

“I know,” she sighed, “But I didn’t go through all that shi-” she paused, and glanced at her sister- “...All this at the Temple just to ignore it. I  _ know _ this will work. At any rate, what we accomplished at the Temple bought us time. If you like, I’ll take a small party while the three of you debate on what to do should this amount to nothing.” 

 

“Absolutely not,” Cullen said instantly, “I am not letting you go alone.” 

 

“Commander, you are needed here,” Josephine said diplomatically. Cullen and Amarantha ignored her. 

 

“I appreciate it, Cullen but-” 

 

“There are no buts,” He interrupted her, “I saw what happened at the Temple, and while I am certain you can handle yourself, you are not going without me. We don’t know what will happen at this altar, or if Mythal is real, or-” he paused, then finally settled on a word, “Benevolent. It’s too dangerous and I will not let you go without me”  

 

She stared at him for a long moment, then relaxed her shoulders. Leaning forward she smirked, “Shall we make it a date, then?” 

 

He blinked, surprised by the casual tone she’d taken in front of the council. After a moment he smirked, and the rest of those in the room melted away as he leaned forward to meet her sharp gaze. “Works for me.” 

 

Her cheeks flushed at his sly look, then she leaned away, cleared her throat, and everything resumed as normal. Morrigan glanced to Leliana with slight confusion, but the Spymaster rolled her eyes and began going over a report she needed to present to the Inquisitor. 

\-----------------------------

 

“You  _ are  _ already bound to her.” 

 

“And?” 

 

“And nothing. It is merely an observation.” 

 

“Well, if I’m already bound to her, then the mark wouldn’t mean much. You can’t be bound to someone twice over.” Amarantha crossed her arms and looked at Solas pointedly. 

 

“I’m merely pointing out that we are going to summon Mythal. It might be beneficial,” Solas suggested, “I am by no means am petitioning you to keep the vallaslin. You know my opinion of them.” 

 

“Yes. And I now share that opinion. So, I would like you to remove it.” 

 

“As you wish,” Solas said, glancing at Cullen who was standing by, watching the scene before him. He was the only one who knew of her plan, save Solas, and he watched silently as the two elves discussed the matter before him, in elvish, which he was able to understand a good portion of. 

 

His hands lifted, and Amarantha sat up straighter, watching Solas expectantly, eyes shining with bravery and determination. “I’m ready.” 

 

Solas nodded, and let his hands trail over Amarantha’s face. She felt the sharp tingling of magic against her skin and forced herself not to flinch. She heard the soft muttering of the spell, and then a burning sensation that lasted mere moments, then- 

 

She opened her eyes- not knowing when she’d closed them- and looked at Solas who was smiling appreciatively. 

 

“You are free.”

 

Turning, she looked at Cullen, who stepped forward and knelt beside her, cupping her cheeks in his hands. He studied her for a long moment, then smiled. “You are beautiful.” 

 

Feeling light and, as Solas had suggested, free, Amarantha leaned forward and kissed Cullen. She then released him and grabbed Solas, hugging him to her tightly. “Thank you for this,” she whispered, “I can never repay you.” 

 

“Of course you can,” Solas replied gently, “Continue being the strong, free-spirited young woman I know, and show your people the truth. Knowledge is a fine weapon, and you yield it splendidly.” 

 

Grinning widely, she hugged him again, then stood and pointed to the stairs. “Dorian is sure to have a mirror.” The two men nodded, and she rushed off. 

 

Amarantha ran up the stairs to find Dorian seated in his favorite armchair, book in hand. He glanced up at her in greeting, then returned his gaze to his book, then his eyes shot up again. “Oh my word,” he said breathlessly. 

 

“I haven’t seen it yet,” she said, flushing, “Do you have a mirror?” 

 

“What?” Dorian said, standing and searching for his pack, “You think I just keep a mirror on me at all times like some kind of vain and pompous-” 

 

He found his mirror and handed it to her. “Here.” 

 

She opened the small mirror to inspect herself. She froze. 

 

The branches that had so defined her features for so long were gone. Save a few freckles she’d inherited from her father, her face was bare, no small branches glimmering in the sunlight. It was strange; unfamiliar. She looked at Dorian, waiting for him to comment. 

 

“I like it,” he said, knowing the look in her eyes. “It suits you.” He paused and then added, “You’ll have to explain when we’ve the time.” 

 

She nodded. “I can do that.” She handed him the mirror and turned. Pausing, she turned back. “It’s really all right?” 

 

Dorian nodded. “You’re lovely, capable, and my dearest friend,” he said, “No mark can change any of that.” 

 

She exhaled, nodded, then ran back down the stairs. 

 

\-----------------------------

 

No one said a word. Their looks said enough, but they remained quiet at the sight of Amarantha’s bare face, and she felt suddenly far more in the spotlight than she’d ever been when wearing the damned things. She hated them, was glad they were gone, but she wished everyone would stop doing a double take as she passed by. 

 

Cassandra blinked, Varric raised a brow, and Bull had nodded in approval. Amaryllis had stared open mouthed and gave Amarantha a look that said she would demand answers later, which was expected, but Amarantha went through their marching orders, determined not to let their surprise distract her. She’d made her choice, she was happy, and above all, she was free. 

 

_ Except you’re not _ , she thought to herself as she mounted her halla.  _ You will never be free. Not really. _

  
  
  


\-----------------------------

 

A little over a week later, the group stood at the Altar of Mythal, staring at it in awe and curiosity. Cullen stood right beside Amarantha, who was flanked by her sister as well. Solas had insisted on coming, as had Dorian. Bull found out and declared he would be joining them as well. Cassandra had chosen to follow her friend for support and Varric had declared that he would not be left back at Skyhold. “I’ve seen a bunch of shit,” he’d said, “And I’m not going to miss out on summoning an elven god.” 

 

Now they stood at the edge of what was left of the altar, covered in moss and ivy and bright flowers that covered the desolated statue. Around them was silence, save for the slight rustling of leaves from the light breeze that brushed over them like a lover’s caress. Amarantha stepped forward, one step, then another. 

 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. Amaryllis stepped up beside her. 

 

“Do you think she’ll really come?” 

 

Amarantha shrugged elegantly. “Only one way to find out.” She stepped onto the altar, Cullen and Amaryllis following her diligently. She stared at the altar for a moment, before leaning forward to brush away some leaves to see an inscription. In a voice that was dictated by the Well, she recited the incantation on the stone. After a moment, Solas spoke up behind her. 

 

“A very old incantation, perfectly translated,” he said, impressed. 

 

Amarantha didn’t turn to look at him, but nodded. “The people called to her here,” she whispered, “ _ Spoke  _ to her.” 

 

“Not anymore,” Amaryllis remarked softly, a strange sadness in her voice. “It doesn’t look like anyone comes here anymore.”

 

“They don’t,” Amarantha said just as softly, “One day Mythal disappeared. There was no one to talk to.” 

 

“You think she’ll return?” Cullen asked, stepping close to Amarantha, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other on her waist. 

 

“Only one way to find out,” she said, then turned to face the others. “You might want to step back.” 

 

“No way, Boss,” Bull spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest. “Weird magic shit or not, we’re not leaving you alone with it.” 

 

“You might want to listen to the Inquisitor,” a voice said from behind them. The group turned to see Morrigan approaching them, hips swaying as she sauntered in that sly manner of hers. 

 

“Morrigan, what are you doing here?” Amarantha asked, though not callously. She had not asked Morrigan to come by choice, but it seemed the witch had chosen to follow them nonetheless. 

 

“I am curious to see what appears when the name of Mythal is invoked,” she replied, “And I do recommend that the rest of you step away. You’ll hear shouting, if you’re needed, I presume.” 

 

“With all due respect, Morrigan,” Dorian said, “But no. If Amarantha wants us to go,  _ then _ we will go. Otherwise, I’m perfectly happy where I am.” He placed on hand on his hip as if to accentuate the remark. The others murmured their agreement. 

 

Morrigan sighed. “Very well.” 

 

Amarantha looked at the group then at Cullen and Amaryllis. “I take it you two are rooted to your spots as well?” 

 

Amaryllis slipped around her sister and moved to stand beside Cullen, mimicking his stance. “Yes.”

 

If they expected her to argue, they were surprised. She glanced at them, then to the others. “Thank you. All of you.” With that she turned, and listened to the voices, who unveiled the incantation to summon Mythal, and Amarantha began to speak it in a low, hypnotic voice. When it was finished, Amarantha took a step back and stared at the altar expectantly. 

 

Nothing happened. 

 

She stared, fearful that she had done the wrong thing, worried that perhaps Mythal  _ had _ abandoned them for good, when suddenly Amaryllis gasped. The girl tugged on Cullen who drew his gaze away from Amarantha to the spot where the smaller elf was staring, and let out a startled breath as well. Turning, Amarantha stared wide-eyed at a spot of grey smoke swirling up from the ground several feet in front of her. It divided her from the rest of the group, who watched on with weapons at the ready, anticipating the worst. 

 

When the growing smoke finally cleared, an elderly woman dressed in ancient-looking garb and white hair stepped forward, her golden eyes fixed on Amarantha. Behind them, Morrigan gasped. “Mother?” 

 

Numerous pairs of eyes shot to Morrigan. Whispers echoed in the air at her declaration, and Amarantha opened her mouth to question the other woman, but before she could, Mythal spoke. 

 

“Daughter,” she said, glancing at her daughter for a moment before turning away. “I am not here for you. But for the one who summoned me.” 

 

Amarantha stared for a long moment, then knelt to the ground, uncertain of what else to do. Mythal was real. And suddenly, Amarantha had a plethora of questions, none of which had to do with Corypheus. Instead, she swallowed her frustration, her anger, her doubt, and instead said meekly, “I am honored.” 

 

The woman chuckled, “Stand my dear.” Amarantha did so, watching with trepidation as the woman approached her. Cullen wrapped his arm protectively around Amaryllis, who stood frozen in place, slack-jawed at the sight of the elven goddess in the flesh. “You are lovely,” the woman remarked, lifting a hand to touch Amarantha’s face. “Why have you called me here, my dear girl?” 

 

“We need your help,” Amarantha said, voice thick as the words stuck to her throat, “There is a magister, Corypheus. He is trying to take over the world. The Inquisition was formed to stop him. But we need you. Please, will you not help us?” 

 

“Mythal has heard your cries,” the woman said, “And she feels your doubt.” Amarantha stiffened, but the other woman merely smiled at her affectionately. “I do not blame you,” she said, “But now is not the time to address those grievances. There will be time; after. In the meantime take comfort; you are heard.” 

 

Something stirred in Amarantha, conflicting and unsettling. Before she could speak however, Morrigan thrust herself in between them. “This woman is a deceiving witch! Do not listen to her Inquisitor, she is lying!” 

 

The woman sighed. “My dear, Inquisitor, is it? Please restrain my daughter.” 

 

Without a second thought Amarantha reached out and grabbed Morrigan’s arm, jerking her away from Mythal. Morrigan recoiled in surprise and Cullen stepped forward almost on instinct to pull Amarantha away from the mess. 

 

“What are you doing?” Morrigan asked as she finally pulled herself out of Amarantha’s grip. Amarantha, for her part, looked horrified, staring at her hands as if they were not their own. 

 

“I don’t know,” she breathed, then looked up at Mythal, fear and anger shining in her eyes. “You made me…” 

 

“That  _ is _ the price,” she said, hands coming to rest on her hips, “But you knew that already.” 

 

Amarantha looked away, ashamed. “I hoped it wasn’t true.” 

 

“So you have to do what Mythal says?” Amaryllis asked, her tone hard as she looked at the goddess. “That doesn’t seem fair.” 

 

“It is,” two voices spoke at once, and the older woman’s shoulder shook as she silently laughed. “See?” She said, “Your sister understands what she has undertaken.” 

 

“I’m fine,” Amarantha said, looking at her sister and Cullen pleadingly. She didn’t want them to lash out, not now. Everything was fine. She glanced at Morrigan, who had stepped away from her some. “Sorry,” she murmured. Morrigan waved her off. 

 

“‘Tis not  _ your _ fault,” she said. Then she turned her hard gaze to her mother, eyes dark with anger. “I will not attack again,” she swore, “But I think you owe us the truth of who you are. How are  _ you _ Mythal?” 

 

The old woman’s eyes grew distant, as if she were lost in a memory. “I was once called Flemeth,” she breathed, her voice soft and wistful, “I was...crying out in the darkness for justice. Mythal heard me. She came to me, a wisp of an ancient being. She granted all I wanted and more. In turn I have carried her through the ages seeking the justice denied to her.” 

 

“So Mythal is….part of you?” Amaryllis asked, slowly leaving Cullen’s side to come and stand in front of her sister, who laid her hands on the girl’s shoulders. Flemeth looked at her and smiled. 

 

“As part of me as your heart is a part of you,” she said, then stepped closer, kneeling down to study the small elf. “You are lovely,” she said, “And so strong. I wonder if you know just how special you truly are?” 

 

Amaryllis said nothing, merely met Flemeth’s eyes, searching them for clarity. Flemeth patted her head, then stood and regarded Amarantha. “You two are so bright, so beautiful. You do the people proud, my dears. There ought to be more like you.” 

 

Taking a shuddering breath, Amarantha bowed her head in thanks. To hear such words, to hear  _ Mythal _ speak such words to her… Amarantha suddenly felt guilty for her harsh thoughts against Mythal. Her face suddenly felt disturbingly light, the weightlessness of the vallaslin’s absence almost too much to bear. Amarantha pushed that aside. Kind words did not make up for her absence. Lifting her head, Amarantha hardened herself and asked: 

 

“Why did you not come when I called?” 

 

“You mean for your clan?” 

 

“My clan, Haven….” 

 

Flemeth reached out, stroking Amarantha’s cheek, fingers catching the stray tear that slipped from her eyes. “My dear, there is a natural order to the world, and some things cannot be interfered with- not even by the gods. You cry out to me for justice, for peace, but are you not bringing it about yourself? You will see in time, when the pieces of the puzzle are all before you. You will understand, even if it does not bring you the comfort you think it will.” She paused and then added, “But I will tell you, I am grieved at the loss of your clan.” 

 

It seemed that the wise elves of ancient times liked speaking in riddles. But knowing that Mythal had heard and had done nothing- did she even have the power to do  _ anything _ , Amarantha wondered- hurt. Her heart ached, feeling as if it had been wrung dry from pain, and constant disappointment from her gods. 

 

It was another area in which she needed answers, but she recognized that the priority was stopping Corypheus. So she pushed aside her anger, her hurt, her disappointment, and asked again, “Will you help us now? Our need is dire.” 

 

“You wish to defeat this Corypheus,” Flemeth repeated, releasing Amarantha and turning to address the others who stood back, watching in curiosity and concern at the scene before them. “Will you all join your Inquisitor in the final fight?” 

 

A chant of ‘yes!” and variations thereof echoed from the group, making Mythal smile. “You are loyal to one of Mythal’s people,” she said, “I am pleased to see it. I will help you, but my aid is limited.” She turned back to Amarantha. “The Guardian of Mythal shall come to your aid when you call for it. But be warned my dear: you may only summon it once.” 

 

“Once will be enough,” Amarantha promised. That seemed to satisfy Mythal. 

 

“Then I shall leave you to your war,” she said, “May it end soon, and may it end in your favor.” She turned then to leave, but Cullen stepped forward, calling out to her. 

 

“My Lady Mythal!” Flemeth stopped and turned, an amused look upon her wrinkled features. 

 

“Yes, my dear boy?” 

 

Cullen faltered at that, but quickly regained himself and asked, “This power you have over Amarantha. What do you plan-” 

 

“Your lover has nothing to fear from me,” Mythal said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “Have no fear. I have no need of a slave.” She then glanced back at her daughter, who looked stricken. “And you have no reason to fear me either, daughter. I shall leave you in peace.” She walked away then, past the group that followed her with wary eyes, stopping long enough to meet Solas’ gaze. She stared for a long moment, eyes squinted in mischievous glee, then she let her head fall back, and with a laugh that rang out like a bell, she disappeared. 

 

The tension that had settled over everyone seemed to dissipate with her. Cassandra pushed forward, rushing up to Amarantha and resting a hand on her arm. “Are you alright?” She asked. The elf nodded. 

 

“A little shaken, if I’m completely honest.” 

 

Cassandra’s grip slackened. “I suppose it’s not every day one meets their god.” Amarantha laughed. 

 

“No. No it’s not.” 

 

Cullen moved to her as well, as did the rest of the group. They huddled around the Inquisitor and her sister, waiting for her to say something. Finally, she did. “Will you all stop worrying!” She said with slight exasperation. “I’m fine! Now let’s go back to Skyhold. We have our secret weapon, now let’s prepare to launch the final attack.” 

 

\-----------------

 

Leliana walked into the dungeon with Cole at her side. Despite his desire to learn more about humanity, he was still very much in tune with the Fade and could read the hearts and minds of those who hurt. He liked what being human meant, though he had yet to come up with a concrete definition, but he still found joy in helping those whose pain called to him. It was weaker now, as he hovered between two worlds, half a spirit and half a boy, but he could still tap into the pain that was before them, and he would know the truth. 

 

Calpernia was behind bars, but Skyhold had been most accommodating to her. She had a cot and a small desk in which she could read or write. She had three meals a day brought to her in quiet as well. She was Skyhold’s best kept secret, and Leliana hoped that perhaps she would be willing to share what she knew for the upcoming fight against the crazed magister.

 

Approaching the cell in question, Leliana signaled to the two guards who were on duty to leave them. With a salute, they marched out, leaving them to their devices. The dungeon was not empty; the war had led to several prisoners, many of whom were awaiting judgement for the Inquisitor. She disliked public judgings, but understood their necessity, and did them with as much justice and grace as she could. 

 

Her most recent judgement had been the most painful- she’d had no choice but to judge Blackwall, who had been revealed as an imposter. His deeds had been dark but his remorse great, and Leliana had held the belief that any sort of great deception- especially one that eluded even her- deserved a harsh punishment. Amarantha had been angered, and rightfully so, but she had been generous, merciful- a trait Leliana found she admired in the elf- and had sentenced him to a life of atoning for his sins by joining the Wardens when the war ended. 

 

Leliana didn’t think she could have been so forgiving. 

 

But the man suffered now, known throughout Skyhold as a traitor and a liar, but no one could deny that the man had been nothing but kind, unassuming, and helpful in the most dedicated of ways. It was a messy situation, and even though Leliana disagreed with the punishment, she didn’t think she could have done a better job handling it. 

 

The same was to be said about Calpernia. Leliana wanted nothing more than to wring the woman’s neck, make her pay for all the pain and horror she inflicted on behalf of her master. But Amarantha had left specific instructions: get information and ensure her sincerity. Leliana could do the former; she was confident in her ability to secure the latter as well. But Cole was adept at reading people’s hurt, and Leliana knew that sometimes it was best to recruit others whose abilities would prove useful, even if she could do it herself. 

 

Pulling the key from her pocket, she unlocked the door and motioned for Cole to enter. The boy did, looking around the cell with curious interest. Leliana followed him in, shutting the door behind her. Calpernia stood. 

 

“Spymaster,” she said with a gesture of respect. Her eyes then turned to Cole. “Who is the boy?” 

 

“I’m Cole,” he said helpfully. 

 

“He’s here to ensure you’re honest,” Leliana remarked cryptically. Calpernia raised a brow. 

 

“Someone as young as him should not be learning your methods.” 

 

Leliana smirked, enjoying instilling a bit of fear. “He has his own methods.” 

 

At that, Calpernia’s mouth snapped shut, and she sat back in her seat, understanding that there would be no playing around. She waited for Leliana to speak, but the spymaster took her time, assessing the small space and Calpernia herself. 

 

“Tell me what you know of Corypheus’ plans.” 

 

Calpernia nodded. “He wanted the Well,” she explained, “I don’t know if he knew precisely what it contained, only that it contained knowledge. I’m assuming about the orb. For all that he shared with me, much was kept close.” She paused to look down, fiddling with her hands, “The Inquisitor’s agents discovered his plan to bind me. I would have held all the knowledge, been bound to Mythal- if such a creature  _ does  _ exist, but Corypheus would have been the one with all the control. He seeks to restore Tevinter; to grant the Imperium the power to rule.” 

 

“Where will he strike next?” 

 

Calpernia shook her head. “He did not tell me.” 

 

At that, Cole’s head snapped toward her, eyes searching. “But you have a theory.” 

 

Calpernia met his gaze, alarmed. “How-” 

 

“Never mind that,” Leliana interrupted, “What is your theory?” 

 

Sighing, Calpernia leaned back, looking directly at Leliana. “Corypheus enjoys postulating. He enjoys the dramatics of this as much as anything. How fitting would it be to ascend to god-hood in the same place the Mark was taken from him?” 

 

“You think he will go to the Temple?” 

 

Calpernia nodded. “I do not know for certain. But at a guess, I would look to the Temple. It would be quite a fitting place for a final battle, yes?” 

 

Leliana nodded. “Indeed it would. Thank you. Cole, come.” 

 

Flabbergasted, Calpernia stood. “Wait, that’s it? I thought the boy-” 

 

Cole turned and grabbed one of Calpernia’s hands in his, causing her to flinch. “Warm, dry; the smell of earth and magic. I just want to go home. I thought I had found my purpose but now I am adrift. My enemies are my friends and my friends my enemies. I am an island, and the waves from two seas swell over me. Tevinter could be made whole again; but not like this. How could I have been so blind?” 

 

Frightened, Calpernia jerked her hand away from him. “How-?” 

 

“Cole likes to help,” Leliana offered, “And rest assured that he just helped you immensely.” 

 

With that she motioned for Cole to follow her, and when they were out of the cell, she locked it back. Calpernia met her at the bars, hands clasped to them as if she would sink if she let go. “When your Inquisitor defeats him,” she said, eyes wet with tears, “I want to know.” 

 

“Of course.” 

 

And then the Spymaster and the Spirit-boy were gone, and once more Calpernia was alone. 

 

\----------------------

 

A few days later saw the group’s return to Skyhold. Amarantha had just walked away from the stables, the group with her as they made their way to the war room. She was conversing with Varric and Cassandra, when midway through a remark about how Varric needed to rethink the title of his book detailing the events of the Inquisition, she doubled over in pain. 

 

“Ahh!” 

 

Unable to help herself, Amarantha sank to the ground, the anchor sparking and shooting magic out, surrounding her entire arm in green tendrils. Cullen was at her side in an instant, taking her good hand in his. She squeezed so hard it hurt, but Cullen said nothing, looking up at the others in concern. “What-” 

 

Above them in the sky, the Breach thundered, and swirled back to life. 

 

“What the hell!” Varric exclaimed, and all around them people became to cry out in panic and fear. The horses in the stables began to whinny, stamping their feet in fear. Next to them, Amarantha continued to cry out in agony, hand stretched out before her, fingers bent in a way that made her hand look more like a claw. 

 

Panicked, Amaryllis looked at Solas and cried, “Do something!” 

 

Solas looked devastated, brows furrowed together. “I can’t,” he said, “This is Corypheus’ doing.” 

 

“What is the bastard doing now?” Dorian asked, clearly annoyed by the entire thing. 

 

“He-he’s tired of waiting,” Amarantha managed to gasp out, lifting herself to a seated position. Cullen held onto her, and Bull knelt down in front of her. 

 

“So what do we do, Boss?” He asked, managing to get her to focus on him. Kneeling beside Cullen, he carefully untangled their hands and let her squeeze his instead. His hand dwarfed hers, but her grip still dug into his flesh, but he said nothing. Cullen rubbed his own hand, trying to bring back the feeling to it, and watched as Bull asked her questions, trying to shift her focus. 

 

“We need to talk to Leliana and see if she has any information,” he said, voice low and calm, speaking slowly so Amarantha could pay attention. “Then we’re gonna move out, right, Boss?” 

 

She managed a nod. “Yes. Get Leliana. I can’t-” 

 

“I’m here, Inquisitor.” 

 

Several heads turned to see Leliana before them, Josephine at her side. “We saw you enter the gate. I know where Corypheus is.” 

 

“Tell me so we can end this,” Amarantha grunted. Cullen rubbed her back affectionately, and she leaned into him, murmuring a soft, “Thanks.” 

 

“Well where is he?” Cassandra asked from her place beside Varric. She looked impatient, hands twitching in eagerness to go against the crazed man who was causing her friend to writhe in agony. 

 

“The Temple.” 

 

“Where we first crossed paths,” Amarantha said, taking a deep breath and loosening her grip on Bull’s hand as the pain died down. “Thanks,” she said. Bull nodded. 

 

“No problem, Boss.” 

 

“Corypheus intends to swallow the world,” Leliana said, “We cannot wait, Inquisitor. We must act now.” 

 

Amarantha nodded and let Bull hoist her to her feet. “Then we march,” she said, swaying lightly but quickly regaining her balance. “Get our troops ready,” she turned to the others, “The rest of you, we go now. Who is with me?” 

 

“I am,” Cullen said instantly, followed by Amaryllis, then Cassandra. The rest agreed as well and with a weary step forward, Amarantha and her companions prepared for their last stand against Corypheus. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Going to try to update regularly from here on out. Look for an update on weekends.


	33. None Shall Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Though I am flesh, Your Light is ever present,_   
>  _And those I have called, they remember,_   
>  _And they shall endure._   
>  _I shall sing with them the Chant, and all will know,_   
>  _We are Yours, and none shall stand before us.  
>  (Trials 15:1)_

Chapter 33: None Shall Stand 

 

 

 

Despite Amarantha’s anxiousness to face Corypheus, the group insisted they camp when the light of the sun began to fade. 

 

“We cannot face him if we are exhausted,” Cassandra reasoned quietly when Amarantha protested, “I want to see him fall as much as you. But we cannot be foolhardy.” 

 

Amarantha relented. “You’re right,” she said at last, “I’m being foolish.” 

 

“Nah,” Bull said from a few feet away, “We’re all eager to see this asshat get what’s coming to him.” 

 

Amarantha nodded weakly, cradling her marked arm against her stomach. It had ached horribly since the sky had burst open once more and that alone was enough motivation to make her eager to destroy Corypheus. It wasn’t often that it hurt like this anymore, only when used extensively to close rifts, but she couldn’t deny that the thought of the mark’s use being done would come with no sense of loss. She was tired. 

 

So was everyone else. This war had cost every person here so much. Cassandra had lost friends, the Divine. Varric had lost Hawke, a fact which Amarantha still felt the heavy burden of guilt. She and her sister had lost their family. Cullen had lost friends, soldiers. Bull had lost his people. He didn’t seem too terribly broken up anymore about the Qunari turning against him, and had found solace in the Chargers and Dorian, but to say it wasn’t a loss would have been an insult. So many innocent lives had been taken. So much had been stolen from them. 

 

_ No more _ , Amarantha swore to herself as she settled down for the evening.  _ Corypheus’ end is here _ . 

 

\--------------------

 

Despite her exhaustion, Cassandra couldn’t sleep. She lay beside Morrigan who had insisted on coming along as well, and the witch slept as silent and still as the dead. But Cassandra’s thoughts wouldn’t slow. They were nearing the end, and there was so much worry festering in her heart that Cassandra felt sick. Moving quietly, she slipped out of the tent, feeling cold without her extra layers and armor. The fire in the middle of the campsite was still burning bright and warm, no doubt thanks to Dorian’s magic. The mage was sound asleep, head on the Iron Bull’s lap, who was sprawled out, head leaning against a stump, snoring lightly. Their hands were entwined, resting on Dorian’s stomach and Cassandra stopped to observe them. Despite the lines etched into their features, no doubt their own worry following them into sleep, they seemed content, and Cassandra felt her heart swell at the sight of them so comfortable together. Unashamed and unafraid of what others might say about them together. 

 

Sighing, she walked to the outskirts of the camp, lit only by the bright moon ahead. She slumped against a tree trunk, then pulled her knees to her chest, rested her head atop them, and began to pray.  _ “Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written.” _

 

“Looks like you beat me to it.” 

 

Cassandra looked up to see Varric standing a few feet away, hair messy from an attempt at sleep. She scooted over, and patted the ground beside her. “You never pray. You only blaspheme.” 

 

“Andraste’s saggy tits, have mercy on us tomorrow,” he said dryly as he joined the Seeker. “See? I can do both.” 

 

Cassandra grunted in annoyance at that, but the sound was halfhearted at best. “Are you worried?” She asked. 

 

“Of fucking course I’m worried,” Varric replied easily, “This is the real shit.” 

 

“Indeed.” 

 

“Makes you think about all the things you never got to do-” 

 

“We are not going to die, Varric,” she cut him off. 

 

“I know that,” Varric said dismissively, “But it doesn’t stop you from getting nostalgic and sentimental.” 

 

She considered that a moment. “I suppose that’s true.” 

 

They fell into silence for several minutes, staring out into the darkness around them. Bull’s snoring had gotten a little louder, and traces of the sound could be heard from their seat. Eventually, Varric reached out and grabbed Cassandra’s hand, startling her from where she’d began to doze. 

 

“I don’t make a habit of saying things I wouldn't normally say if we weren’t about to face off against a crazed magister who wants to bring about the end of the world, but I’d also be remiss if I  _ didn’t _ say something.” 

 

“Varric-” 

 

“I love you, Cassandra. And I know, this is new and we’re trying to figure things out and determine what to do and you might be Divine or we might die- because it  _ is _ a possibility. Despite rumors that you are in fact  _ immortal _ , there is a good chance that tomorrow something might happen. And it might not. But I’ve written enough books to know that when you’re in a situation like this, you don’t  _ not  _ say what’s on your heart. And  _ you _ are on my heart, Cassandra Pentaghast. I don’t care what it takes or who I have to bribe in the process, but I want you and I to be together. I care about you- and I vowed a long time ago to stop caring about people because I always lose those I love- but no one has ever been quite… well,  _ you.  _ And I can’t stop entertaining the idea of, after all this is over, going back to Skyhold, getting my hands on the most expensive bottle of wine I can find, and reading you the most romantic love poems I can stomach. And I never thought I’d want to do those things but I  _ do _ and I want to do all of it- the sappy shit and the real, tough shit-  _ all _ of it with-” 

 

He was cut off by a pair of warm lips pressed hard against his. They’d shared a few chaste kisses before, in passing as she went about her duties and he wrote letters and novels. They’d never been anything more than soft, gentle things, hinting at the desire for more but remaining as innocent as the most dedicated Chantry sister. 

 

This was no such kiss. This was raw, hungry, pent up desire from too many nights wishing for this very thing but refusing to act on it because there were too many what-if’s. But nothing was certain, which was the only thing that  _ was  _ certain, and so Varric wasted no time yanking her to him, pulling her so that her legs came to rest on either side of him as her mouth set upon his, desperate and demanding. 

 

She sighed against him, and Varric wrapped his large hands around her waist, squeezing her sides from where her tunic rolled up slightly. Her hands were on his cheeks, in his hair, cradling the back of his neck so that she could direct the kiss, and Varric was happy to let her lead. There would be time in the future to turn the tables, pin her under him and tease her until she  _ begged _ , but tonight there was no time. There would be no more than this tonight, Varric decided through the haze of arousal. He was not a romantic, or so he believed, but he knew there was nothing romantic about frantically fucking against a tree several feet away from camp. As much as he wanted it, it wasn’t the time, and he managed to voice it in between frantic, tantalizing kisses. 

 

“Of course not,” she breathed, chest heaving in a manner that Varric would have to remember for future installments of  _ Swords and Shields _ . “That is a private act. One that should be  _ enjoyed _ . Not rushed through.” 

 

Bianca had said the exact opposite once, Varric recalled distantly. They’d met for a quick fumble and when Varric had suggested they slow down to enjoy themselves, she’d laughed. “There’s nothing to  _ enjoy _ ,”  Bianca had said dismissively as she’d shoved him onto the cot in the musty room he’d rented, “We’re here to get our fix and go.” He’d not questioned it at the time, desperate for that said fix, but now he’d had a taste of actually  _ being _ with someone. Regularly. Having conversations outside of ‘meet me here on this day at this time’. He didn’t miss that. 

 

He wanted the slow burn. The pent up desire that pooled between them until one of them burst, dragging the other over the edge with them into a frenzied haze of desire and love. Varric was tired of lust. He wrote about lust; he’d long been engaged with lust. What he had with Cassandra certainly contained the feeling, but it was smothered by devotion, love, and interest in her as a person, not just the woman who willingly screwed him every couple of years. 

 

“Somehow that was a convincing point on  _ not _ waiting.” 

 

Cassandra sat back, glaring at him playfully. Varric hardly noticed, distracted as he was by his love’s swollen lips. “Shut up,” she said, lightly smacking his chest. 

 

Varric smirked. “Make me.” 

 

“Ugh,” Cassandra grunted, “You are such a child.” 

 

“Well I don’t see you doing anything to shut me u-” 

 

Her lips were on his again, and he melted into her. “That’s more like it,” he murmured before sliding his hands upward, caressing the side of her breasts which made Cassandra jerk against him. “If you don’t stop, dwarf-” 

 

“Just giving you a taste of what’s to come,” he said with a laugh, kissing her once more. He could easily get used to this. 

 

“Varric,” she said warningly, then softened and let her forehead rest against his. “I love you too. And everything you want, I want it to. We’ll never have a normal life, but whatever life we are given, I want it to be together.” 

 

His desire tempered at that, replaced by a warm and comforting feeling that felt suspiciously like home; like this was what he’d been searching for his entire life. He was standing at threshold, peering into the possibility of a new life, no matter how short it might be, with Cassandra. 

 

He crossed the threshold with no reservations. “Together sounds  _ perfect _ , Seeker.” 

 

\----------------------

 

Amarantha shifted carefully, afraid of rousing her sister. She’d slept for a couple hours, but had woken up some time ago, restlessness settling in the pit of her stomach. She’d not stopped for several days, had not thought of anything beyond reaching Corypheus, and now that she was still and all was quiet- despite Bull’s snoring- her thoughts were running wild. 

 

Mythal had spoken to her. Corypheus was making a final stand. So much was happening and it was overwhelming. Amarantha felt panic start to set in, and she took a shuddering breath, determined to remain calm. 

 

“It’s okay, Sister.” 

 

Looking over, Amarantha could see the outline of Amaryllis, who was lying on her stomach, but her head was turned toward her. 

 

“Go back to sleep, Rilly. I’m fine.” 

 

“No you’re not,” Amaryllis whispered, “You’re scared. I am too.” 

 

There was nothing else to say. It was as simple as her sister had made it: she was terrified. Reaching out, Amarantha found her sister’s hand, and squeezed it. “It’s too much,” she admitted at last, “All of this. It’s too much.”

 

“It’s almost over.” 

 

Amarantha blew her bangs out of her face. “I certainly hope so.” 

 

They were silent for a long moment before Amaryllis spoke again. “Is it bad that I can’t wait for Corypheus to die?” 

 

Amarantha rolled onto her side to better face her sister. “I think it’s probably not good,” she admitted, “Then again, I can’t say I don’t feel the same.” 

 

“He’s bad. It’s okay if they’re bad, right?” 

 

“I think….we need to focus on stopping him for the sake of those who  _ can’t _ fight him,” Amarantha said at last. “It’s so easy to get caught up in wanting revenge. And trust me, after what he did to our clan I very much want revenge.” She stopped and sighed, “But.... this isn’t about that. It was about helping people before it became personal for me. And I...have to go into this remembering that.”

 

“That makes sense,” Amaryllis said slowly, “I sometimes forget. That they’re gone. Then something will happen and I’ll think, ‘Mamae will love to hear this!’ and then I’ll remember again, and I get sad. Then I get angry.” 

 

“I do too.” 

 

Amaryllis breathed in sharply at her sister’s revelation. “You do?” 

 

“I sometimes think about them meeting Cullen. About how they would react. Then I remember that he’ll never know them. They never knew him.” 

 

“Mamae was proud of you, you know?” Amaryllis said, scooting closer to her sister, who enveloped her in her arms, “She talked about it all the time. ‘My daughter is leading the shem. She’s important to them!’. Papae just grumbled.” 

 

“Papae always grumbled.” 

 

Amaryllis giggled. “He did. It was funny.” They fell into silence again, and after a while Amaryllis fell back asleep, comforted by the warm embrace of her sister. Amarantha stroked her hair for a little while longer, thinking of just how much she loved the girl in her arms, and it was with thoughts of a bright future in which her sister would grow up that she finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep. She dreamt, as she usually did. 

 

_ She was facing off with Corypheus. They stood on the ruins of the temple, the world silent and black around them. Corypheus lunged forward, but a large red-eyed wolf appeared from the abyss and swallowed Corypheus up, then turned to her and howled in victory. When she reached out to pet the wolf, it hunkered down, as if afraid, then vanished into the wisps of air from which it formed.  _

  
  


\--------------------

 

The next morning, the group moved a little more slowly, a sense of trepidation over them. No one spoke as they packed up and ate a small breakfast. Cullen reported to the others that some soldiers were making their way to the temple as well, and would be a few hours behind them. 

 

“Let’s go on,” Amarantha said, looking up at the Breach, as angry and swirling as it was the first time she looked upon it. 

 

The others agreed and they mounted their stallions and headed off. The sisters rode together, talking quietly amongst themselves. Cullen was beside them, on the left, and occasionally Amaryllis would say something to him, and he would reply with a smile that gave no allusions to his absolute adoration of the girl. After a while Solas rode up to the other side of them. 

 

“Are you ready?” He asked her softly. Amarantha kept her gaze straight ahead. 

 

“No,” she said.This had gone on for so long, and she was ready to be rid of the looming threat that hovered over them, but she still felt fear in her heart for what might occur. But ready or not, it was time for the end. It was time for peace. “But I know what I must do.” 

 

“A plan is always a good weapon,” Solas remarked, “Let us hope it is stronger than whatever else Corypheus may try to throw at us.” 

 

“I’m glad you’re here, Solas,” Amarantha said suddenly, turning to finally look at the older elf. “Throughout everything you have been there. And I don’t think I’ve ever really thanked you for all you’ve done for me and my sister.” 

 

Solas looked at the young girl, who was straining her neck to observe them both, then back to the older sister. “You are a treasure,” Solas said to her, “Both of you.”  

 

“Thank you, Solas,” Amarantha said softly, “This path would have been much more difficult without you.” 

 

“Let us hope we are at the end of that path,” he said, “What lies ahead will shape the future.” 

  
  


\-------------------

 

At the back of the group, Bull hummed a song to himself, seemingly at ease with everything. Dorian glanced over at him, brows furrowed. “You’re bloody cheerful today.” 

 

“We’re gonna defeat Corypheus,” Bull said simply, “Doesn’t that make you cheerful?” 

 

“No,” he remarked dryly, “We still have to actually  _ fight  _ him. I’m confident in our abilities, but I can’t rest easy until his smoldering corpse is lying prostrate in front of me.” 

 

Bull glanced at Dorian. “We’re gonna be  _ fine _ ,” he said softly, “We’re all together; we have a plan. Sure shit can go wrong-” 

 

“It usually does!” Called Varric over his shoulder. He was promptly smacked by Cassandra. Bull laughed. 

 

“Shit might go wrong. But we’re capable.” He paused then added with meaning, “ _ You’re  _ capable.” 

 

“You really think we can do this?” 

 

“‘Course we can. We got too much to live for.” 

 

“Oh?” 

 

“Remember what I told you about the other day? That thing with the-” 

 

“We are in  _ public _ .” 

 

“But still,” Bull pressed. “We can’t die yet.” 

 

Unable to help himself, Dorian laughed. “It would be a shame.” 

 

“Absolutely.” 

 

Squaring his shoulders, Dorian looked ahead with his chin raised and eyes toward the future. “Well, then let’s destroy the bastard and go home.” 

 

Bull grinned. “That’s the spirit, Kadan.” 

 

\---------------------

 

It was dark when they arrived. It was still day, but the sky had turned black, a testament to Corypheus’ corrupt influence. When they arrived at the temple, a few guards were standing their ground, facing off against Corypheus. He flung magic at them, sending the men flying, and Dorian and Solas rushed over to see to them. 

 

The others dismounted and grouped around Amarantha. “Plan?” Morrigan asked, brow raised. 

 

“I’ll summon the Guardian to take care of his dragon. Corypheus is ours. Ambush him. Warriors to the front. Mages and archers keep a safe distance. Templars divided to assist mages and attack directly.” 

 

Corypheus began speaking, proclaiming his godhood and declaring that the world would bow to him. Amarantha looked away from the group to him. “Shut up,” she said just as calmly. “You have boasted of your greatness long enough. Have you forgotten that we have stopped you at every turn?” 

 

Corypheus glared. “That is the past,” he said, “I now have the strength I need. I will defeat you and unleash my will upon this wretched world!” 

 

He raised his hands, and the ground began to shake. The others grabbed onto each other, looking around in confusion as the temple began to rise from the ground. The world went unsteady around them, and they felt a harsh breeze speed past them. “We’re being lifted!” Cassandra cried, hanging on to Cullen who had grabbed Bull’s arm for support. 

 

After a few terrifying seconds, the speeding rise of the world stopped, jerked to a halt and the group tumbled forward. Corypheus stared at them with a mocking grin, smug and cruel. Near the edge, Dorian cried out, “This is  _ not _ how I imagined this fight going!” 

 

“Stay clear of the edges!” Cullen shouted, looking around quickly to take count of everyone. He was relieved to see that all were present. In front of him, Amarantha stood from where she’d stumbled during the ascent and gripped her daggers tightly. 

 

“Corypheus!” She called out, “Stop your bolstering and  _ face me!” _

 

Corypheus glared at her for a long moment, then lifted his voice to the sky and summoned his dragon. 

 

Above them, the dragon appeared, screeching and roaring as it obeyed its master's call. Bull shouted something in Qunlat, and nearby Amaryllis gasped at the creature speeding toward them. 

 

“Now would be a  _ great  _ time to summon our friend!” Varric shouted from somewhere behind her, and Amarantha nodded. Closing her eyes, she whispered a string of words, pleading for the Guardian of Mythal to come to her aid. A moment later, there was a second roar, and another large dragon- this one golden and shimmering with light- appeared above them, ramming headfirst into Corypheus’ monster. The red lyrium dragon faltered, whipping around in midair to face its attacker, and the Guardian let out a fearsome roar, then charged at the other. 

 

“Now  _ that’s _ what I’m talking about!” Bull shouted as he watched the scene from below. Across the way, Corypheus snarled at the dragon’s airborne battle then returned his red-eyed stare to Amarantha. 

 

“How quaint,” he sneered, “You have your own pet. No matter. Your end will come all the same.” With that, he turned and retreated. 

 

Growling in frustration, Amarantha raised a dagger to the sky. “Inquisition!” She shouted, “Follow him!” 

 

The group let our varying battle cries, and with weapons drawn they charged forward, racing up the pathway where Corypheus had fled. Above them the dragons fought, screeching in pain as each laid an attack on the other. Their attacks shook the world below them, causing rocks and stones to fall all around the Inquisition. Each boulder that fell shook the foundations of the temple and each strike of the dragons above was like thunder. 

 

When they reached Corypheus, he was standing some feet away from them, alternating between watching the dragons and keeping his eye on the Inquisition. His back was to another doorway, clearly anticipating another hasty exit should things not fall in his favor. He smirked when his creature laid a hard blow against the Guardian. 

 

“Now is the hour of my victory!” He declared. “You are no match for me, you pathetic creature. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you are nothing more than a simpering, fool  _ elf _ .” 

 

A burst of fire shot forth at that, striking Corypheus’ shoulder and causing the magister to cry out in surprise and pain. “Don’t talk about my sister like that!” Amaryllis cried, handling another ball of fire in her palm before throwing it at the magister, which he managed to dodge. Following the little mage’s lead, Dorian, Morrigan,  and Solas let loose their own magic. Varric fired several quick shots as well, and Cullen, Cassandra, and Bull all rushed up to Amarantha. In response, Corypheus summoned his own power and from the ground he pulled forth several demons, commanding them to attack. 

 

Bull tapped the flat of his axe against the palm of his hand in delight. “Looks like we finally get to see some action.” Then with a roar that rivaled the dragons above, Bull rushed forward, slicing a demon down with a single stroke of his weapon. The others followed behind him, working together to slice down the demons. In their momentary distraction, Corypheus retreated once more, but not unnoticed. 

 

“He’s running!” Dorian called out as he threw another spell that fell just shy of reaching the magister. 

 

Spinning around, Amarantha cursed and took off after him, the others rushing to catch up with her. Above them, the dragons were both heavily injured, and in a final strike against the red lyrium creature, the Guardian opened its wide jaws and  _ bit _ , snapping the neck of the other dragon, whose body spasmed briefly before falling limp. The Guardian released the creature and let it fall to the temple floor, where it landed with a great  _ thud _ in the path of the others, separating them from the Inquisitor. “Shit!” Cullen yelled as he stepped back from the carcass and rushed to the edge of the temple so they could pass. 

 

They reached the doorway and rushed through two at a time, down a rocky path that was littered with stone and debris. More fell around them as they ran. On the ground was a thin trail of blood, and when Cullen saw it, his stomach twisted violently. 

 

“She’s injured,” he said to the others, who by now had noticed the trail as well. 

 

“It could be Corypheus’,” Amaryllis offered as they moved, but no one was quite convinced. 

 

When they reached her, Amarantha was standing near Corypheus, who was breathing raggedly and looked worse for wear. Amarantha was gripping her arm which was dripping a steady stream of blood, but other than a few scrapes, she looked otherwise fine.  In Corypheus’ hand, he held the orb. 

 

“Shit,” Varric murmured, loading Bianca and waiting for a moment to strike. 

 

“It’s over Corypheus,” Amarantha said, taking a cautious step forward. “You failed.” 

 

Quietly Corypheus began to chant, and the orb turned a glowing, menacing red. “Fool,” he laughed, “You will never defeat me.” 

 

An arrow zipped by the elf and struck Corypheus straight in the arm, causing his grip on the orb to weaken. “That was for Halamshiral, asshole,” Varric shouted to Corypheus. 

 

Growling, Corypheus used his free hand to throw bursts of dark magic toward the others. He struck Bull, who merely shook off the pain with a battle-enthused laugh, and Cassandra, who grunted and cursed, but gripped her sword tighter and charged the magister, swiping at him mercilessly. She landed one strike, causing Corypheus to disappear and reappear some feet behind them, throwing off their direction long enough to slam a boulder toward Cullen, who was knocked flat on his back from the blow. 

 

“No!” Amarantha screamed, adjusting her grip on one dagger and throwing it hard at Corypheus, where is struck him in the side. 

 

Amaryllis spun her staff and threw a burst of raw energy at him, causing Corypheus to once more lose his grip on the orb. 

 

Howling in pain, he cried, “Not like this! I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages!” He turned, regaining his grip on the orb and held it high. “Dumat! Ancient ones! I beseech you!” 

 

At the power that shot forth, Amarantha’s hand sparked, and she screamed in pain as her arm turned to a large burst of painful energy. She dropped her remaining dagger, clutching at her arm as it rebelled. 

 

_ Take the orb _ . 

 

Amarantha glanced up, seeing the orb in Corypheus’ hand. Her gaze shifted to Varric, and she cried out, “Varric! Hit him!” 

 

With a speed that was near alarming, Varric reloaded Bianca and shot Corypheus’ arm, the arrow striking him in the wrist, and in the shock of the sudden pain, the orb fell out of his hands and onto the ground at his feet. With a desperate cry, Amaratha scrambled forward, scooping up the orb before Corypheus could bend down to reach it. The red of the orb melted into the green that consumed half her being, and she felt the world slow. Looking at the orb, she felt a clear sense of completion and understanding, then she lifted her eyes and hand to the Breach. Power consumed her, and she felt so full that she might burst. But she forced the power to bend to her instead. _ I am the Herald of Andraste, deemed worthy by Mythal to carry her knowledge and her Guardian. I will not be overrun by this!  _

 

In that moment, the power relented and Amarantha, for an instant, felt what Corypheus must have been searching for the entire time. Her gaze shifted to his, and took a slow breath, suddenly calm. “You killed everyone at the Chantry,” she said, victory rattling her bones. “You killed my family.” She stepped forward, and Corypheus stepped back. “You destroyed my clan, Haven, countless lives and for what?  _ This? _ ” She let loose a burst of magic, tingling against her skin and piercing Corypheus. “And all of it has come undone at the hands of an  _ elf _ .” Her smirk fell then, and her gaze became full of pity. “I promised my sister I wouldn’t do this for revenge,” she said, “And I’m not. But I  _ am _ doing it for her. And for Cullen. And my friends. You told me once the throne of the gods was empty. Even if that’s true,” she reached out with her free hand and grabbed Corypheus with ease, pulling him so that their faces almost touched, “You’ll never take the seat.”  

 

Shoving her hand upward toward the Breach, the power consumed her before erupting forth, engulfing  her and Corypheus in the magic, which overwhelmed him until he burst in a flash of light, and faded into dust. 

 

Around them, the world began to shake again, and the temple began to fall back to the earth. Stone and boulders flew haphazardly all around them, and Amarantha heard someone shout at everyone to run. She turned to flee, saw everyone else running ahead, but before she could catch up, she lost her footing and fell, crying out when a boulder landed on her leg, crushing it with a sickening  _ crack! _ She felt a wave of nausea come over her, then dizziness, then nothing. 

 

\-----------------------

 

Amarantha rolled onto her back with a groan. Pain shot through her and she whimpered, reaching down with her right hand to clutch at her leg, which felt as if it had been shattered. Her head ached and her arm was throbbing and she felt a bruise forming around her eye. Managing to lift her head, she glanced down, wincing in disgust and shock as she noticed the bone sticking out of her leg and that it was bent at an odd angle from where she had struck by the boulder. Eyes watering, she moved to sit up further, her body bruised and battered. Everything hurt. She clutched her left arm to her chest, the mark calm but the bone at her wrist clearly snapped. She’d landed hard, had been pelted with rocks and debris, and now she was stuck in the aftermath, alone, and uncertain if anyone else had been harmed in the fray. Around her all was quiet and calm. 

 

Bending over, she clutched at her arm, not daring to touch her leg even as blood trickled out steadily from the wound. Trying to catch her breath, she breathed deeply to call for help, but the sound died on her lips when she saw movement just beyond her line of vision. Snapping her head up, she saw Solas, who cradled the shattered orb in his hands. He was moving toward her quickly, even as his face bore the grim expression of disappointment at the loss of the orb. 

 

“Solas,” Amarantha groaned, the sound gurgled through a burst of agony. Dropping the orb, Solas knelt down next to her, his hands carefully tracing over the ruined leg. She winced and whimpered at the touch, but did not protest. He covered her leg with his hands and let his eyes slip shut, the magic within him slipping out from his fingers and covering her leg. She grunted in pain as the magic worked, no doubt reshaping the bone. It would not be enough, she knew; Solas was a skilled healer, but this would take someone whose abilities were far more focused than Solas’. It would be enough to allow her to limp, and that would have to do.

 

After what seemed an eternity, Solas released her leg, then reached out to take her hand. He stroked it carefully between his larger ones, then released a smaller burst of magic that pained her greatly, but was nowhere near as excruciating as healing her leg had been. A moment later it was better, though still hurt greatly. 

 

“It is the best I can do,” he said, apologetically “Until you can receive proper attention.” 

 

She released a heavy breath and glanced at the elf before her. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

He nodded silently, reached out to help her to her feet. She stood on shaky, painful legs, and was grateful for the arm around her waist as Solas supported her in his grip. “I’m sorry about the orb,” she said, glancing down at their feet to where it lay, split into pieces. 

 

“As am I,” he sighed, sounding weary, tired. “But you defeated Corypheus,” he whispered, “And I am so proud of you.” 

 

Exhausted, she leaned against him and hummed. “Thank you.” 

 

He said nothing, then stepped away from her, slowly so that she might maintain her balance. “I want you to know that you are a truly magnificent young woman,” he said, holding her hand but not looking at her. “I am honored to have met you- and your sister.” 

 

“What- Solas… Why does this sound like a goodbye?” Amarantha asked, her mind reeling with everything that was happening. It didn’t feel real, as if time had stopped for this moment. 

 

The look Solas gave her was crushing. “Because it is.” 

 

“What-” 

 

“I have things I must see to,” Solas said, “And I cannot remain here. I have seen to the defeat of Corypheus, and I have had the honor of watching you and your sister grow into remarkable, powerful women. Were there more like you….” he glanced away, made a pained sound, “But it does not matter. Please tell your sister I am sorry.” 

 

“I don’t understand, Solas-” 

 

Her words caught as he stepped to her and placed a kiss upon her forehead. “Ar lath ma, emma fen asha.”

 

“Wait, Solas I don’t-” 

 

“ _ SISTER!” _

 

Startled by the shout of her sister, Amarantha glanced over her shoulder, then back to where Solas had stood before her, only to find he was gone. Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared at the blank space before her, wondering why Solas had left, and what he’d meant by his words. 

 

_ My wolf girl,  _ she thought,  _ I don’t understand.  _

 

She had no time to dwell on those thought as she was knocked off balance by Amaryllis’ flying bear hug. Her small arms were tight around Amarantha’s waist, and her ribs ached from the pressure. Solas had seen to her major wounds, but there were plenty that were still fresh and raw; still not properly healed. In addition, he’d added a fresh wound to the mix, and there lingered a haze of confusion, even as Amarantha tried to allow the fact that Corypheus was  _ gone _ sink in. 

 

She paused. It was over. Despite the pain, internal and external, Amarantha let out a relieved slip of a laugh, and clutched her sister to her. 

 

Soon enough the others found her as well, all looking bruised and tired, but thrilled. Dorian was the first to join in on the elf girl’s hug, his arms wrapping around Amarantha’s shoulders. He was grimy, and there was a deep cut on his face. He fared another limp on the same leg he’d injured before, but seemed in good spirits. Bull was next to join in the hug, laughing as he ignored the large cut on his shoulder. He had a large bruise on his face as well, just under the eyepatch.

 

“You did it, Boss!” Bull said as he let go, moving to wrap an arm around Dorian, who leaned against him tiredly. 

 

“ _ We  _ did it,” she corrected, looking around anxiously. “Where’s Cullen?” 

 

“Right here, Inquisitor.” 

 

Looking over, Cullen was slumped against the ground, Cassandra and Morrigan on either side of him. Varric was behind Cassandra, his clothes bloodied in varying spots, but otherwise fine. Breathing sharply, Amarantha released her sister and rushed to Cullen, limping as she moved, her leg screaming in agony. She dropped to his side, tears already streaking her face, fearing the worst. 

 

Cullen smiled at her, weakly, and she felt the grip on her heart loosen. “Just a few cracked ribs,” he said groggily. “I’m fine.” 

 

“Don’t scare me like that!” She said in a frantic whisper, moving so that she hovered over him and kissed him hard on the lips. He lifted a hand, scraped and bloody, to cup her face, careful of the large bruise that was still blooming. 

 

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m alive. We’re alive.” 

 

“Indeed we are,” Morrigan said, watching the romantic display with a wistful smile. “A great success, at great cost.” 

 

Amaryllis moved to join her sister, sitting at Cullen’s side and hugging him carefully. “We’ll take care of you,” she whispered, determined in spite of her own slight injury. “Don’t worry, Cullen.” 

 

He tried to laugh at that, but the sound was brief and pained. “Good,” he said. “Because I think I may need it.” 

 

In the distance, shouts could be heard: Inquisition soldiers calling out for survivors. “I will lead them to us,” Morrigan volunteered as she stepped back, seemingly uninjured. “Remain here, and celebrate your victory.” She glanced up to regard the others. “All of you.” With that she rushed away to seek the soldiers. 

 

Moving to crowd around Cullen, Bull, Dorian, Varric, and Cassandra all sat down, silent. It was hard to believe that all they had worked for was suddenly over, and they allowed the peace of the moment to settle on them. That peace was broken a moment later when Amaryllis looked up, concerned. “Where’s Solas?” 

 

Amarantha winced at the question, and took her sister’s hand in hers, careful of not touching Cullen. “He’s alive,” she whispered, “He... went looking for the orb.” 

 

“Oh,” Amaryllis said, clearly disappointed. “But at least he’s okay.” 

 

“We’re all okay,” she replied, looking over to see her dearest friends who had stood by her through the most trying time in her life. It had been trying for them all, and yet they sat here, on the field of battle, victorious and together. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are FAR from finished. Corypheus may be gone, but I have so much in store for you guys. I'm really excited about it too. I'm working on the final edits/rewrites of the last chapters, and I'm finally really happy with them. 
> 
> Also, just a note: I've changed my username from woubazoid to cardinal_daughter. It felt like time for a change. Just FYI.


	34. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition returns to Skyhold; Cullen and Amaryllis have a talk; Varric and Cassandra choose life.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Home

 

The soldiers and healers came rushing to them with satchels full of medical supplies, ready for whatever was needed of them. The group was sectioned off in terms of injuries, Cullen and Amarantha’s being two of the most serious. A skilled healer examined her leg, which ached terribly, and began a proper healing spell to set the leg in place far better than Solas had managed. 

 

“You will need to rest for some time,” the woman said softly, her short red hair matted to head with sweat. “The bone is set; but you will be in pain.” 

 

“I understand,” Amarantha replied, carefully holding her hand out for the healer to examine. “I think you’ll say the same about this.” 

 

The healer inspected the injury and hummed in reply. “Oh yes,” she said, “You’ll not be wielding daggers for a while. Healing spells speed up the process, but they can’t account for the natural order of things.” 

 

A few feet away, another healer was examining Cullen, who groaned wearily with every poke and prod of the mage’s fingers. “Bed rest is what you need,” the healer said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument from Cullen. Next to him, Amaryllis watched the healer with razor sharp eyes.

 

“I’ll take care of him,” she insisted. Cullen smiled. 

 

“I’ve no doubt of it,” he said, “But you need your own injuries seen to.” 

 

“I’m just scraped up,” she said lightly, “Maybe I’ll get a cool scar like Bull. And I can tell everyone I got it in the most important battle ever!” 

 

“That’s the spirit!” Bull called from several feet away, where another healer was wrapping his shoulder to soak up the blood. “Scars are the best souvenirs!” 

 

“I rather prefer a nice bottle of wine,” Dorian remarked dryly from his place beside Cassandra, who was nursing a cut to the head and a broken nose. “Much more enjoyable.” 

 

“And short lived,” Varric remarked. “Though I think I agree with Sparkler on this one.” 

 

“I think we  _ all _ could use a good drink,” Cassandra said as she hissed, the salve the healer was using burning as it cleansed the wound. “Soon.” 

 

Amarantha sat up, holding her left wrist in her other hand. “The second we get back to Skyhold,” she promised, “Drinks are on me.”

 

Chatter continued as wounds were seen to and scouts and soldiers inspected the area. Amaryllis went from one person to the next to check on them, unable to shake the feeling that something bad had happened to Solas. Her sister didn’t seem worried, merely distracted, but Rilly figured that might be more to do with her bruised body than anything else. 

 

“You should be happier; the sky is healed.”

 

Whipping her head around, Amaryllis gasped excitedly to see Cole standing there. She shouted his name and then flew into his arms, the spirit boy catching her with ease. “You feel lighter now,” he said softly, “You were heavy a moment ago.” 

 

Amaryllis clung close to him. “I’m fine,” she said before pulling away slightly, “What are you doing here?” 

 

“I wanted to check on you,” he said simply, “So I followed the soldiers. Sera is here too, somewhere.” 

 

Amaryllis giggled. “She probably didn’t want to get too close to the Temple.” 

 

Cole agreed with a laugh. “Probably not.” 

 

“Come on,” she said, taking Cole’s hand and leading him toward the center of the now destroyed temple, “Let me show you where Sister  _ defeated _ Corypheus!” 

 

\----------

 

They camped out at the edge of the Temple that night, then made the return journey to Skyhold the next morning. The trip was slow due to the extent of injuries, but everyone was in good spirits. They talked together as they rode, speaking of future plans and hopes and the great and urgent need for a night to simple celebrate. 

 

There was still political strife in Orlais where the three rulers, overseen by Celene, tried their best to make good out of the bad they stirred up with their squabbles. The world was in chaos now that the imminent threat of doom was no longer pressing, and the election of the Divine would soon be on everyone’s mind. Indeed, there was much to do and the Inquisition would no doubt be stuck in the middle of it all, but for the moment, everyone was content to focus on the simplicity of the present: the immediate threat was gone. 

 

For a moment, they could breathe.  

 

Eventually, they reached the bridge linking the island fortress to the rest of the world, and in the distance they could hear the blast of horns signaling their triumphant return. Shouts of joy and praise echoed around them, and they all smiled and laughed as they made their way home. 

 

They entered to a celebration, people cheering and shouting and waving flags and crying. It was a beautiful feeling, to know that  _ this _ was the end of it, in some ways. There was much to do, but in this moment it hardly mattered. Amarantha was greeted by Josephine, who had broken her strict rule about remaining diplomatic and professional by running to them and pulling Amarantha in a surprisingly painful embrace. She then led the Inquisitor to the landing, raising their joined hands in the air in celebration, and as Amarantha looked out over the crowd, looked at her friends and her sister and Cullen, she felt the strangest sensation well up within her. 

 

It was warm, soft, like a fire warming weary bones after walking too far in the cold. It was a firm grip, strong and secure and safe, holding her steady in its grasp. It was the feeling of lips against chilled skin, sending a path of delight down the spine. It was the understanding that after twenty-five years of walking, wandering, running, and fighting, she felt as if she’d finally come home. 

 

\---------------

 

Josephine, incredible woman that she was, had already issued invitations, ordered decorations, and created a menu for the ensuing celebration that came with the defeat of Corypheus. She had given a date for a week from the date of their return, which she deemed enough time for them to rest and and heal from their battle. 

 

Despite protests, Cullen and Amarantha were instructed to remain in the infirmary for a few days. Varric, too, had to stay, but was comforted by Cassandra’s quiet companionship. There was never any shortage of visitors from the Inner Circle, and despite the agony of being forced to stay in bed all day, Amarantha found herself to be in good spirits as her leg ached and her eye remained swollen and bruised. 

 

Cullen grumbled all the while he was in his bed, which provided much entertainment for the others. 

 

“I should be working,” he insisted, voice winded by the effort it took to speak. Amarantha fixed a glare on him. 

 

“When you can speak without pain, you can get up and not a moment sooner.” 

 

“Yes,  _ mother _ .”

 

In the evenings, the only ones who remained in the infirmary were Cassandra and Amaryllis, both of whom were reluctant to leave their loved ones. A cot had been set up for them, though Amaryllis was content to sleep on the ground, and the group would speak softly once the girl had fallen asleep. 

 

“So, what  _ really _ happened with Solas?” Varric asked three days into their stay. “You’ve not talked about him, he’s not shown up, and you look like you want to cry any time Sprout mentions him.”

 

“I don’t know,” Amarantha admitted at last. “Let’s leave it at that for the moment.” She paused and then added a desperate, “Please.” 

 

\----------

 

By the day of the celebration Amarnatha could walk, with only a little limp and some pain. Varric was better, too. Cullen still sported a great deal of pain, but he insisted on leaving with the others. “I promise I’ll go easy,” he swore, and it was clear he was going mad from being idle for so long. It hardly mattered that now was the time to enjoy such idleness: the world was waiting for what the Inquisition would do next, and they’d had the luxury of reporting that the Inquisitor and others had been injured and needed time to rest before any important decisions were made. 

 

That evening Amarantha sat with her leg propped up, massaging it lightly with her good hand as Josephine curled her hair. 

 

“You are remarkable, you know that?” She asked as she looked in the mirror to see spiraling curls bounce around her head.

 

“I have my own particular magic,” Josephine remarked, “Surely you knew that?” 

 

“You have to have some kind of magic,” Amaryllis said from her place beside Cassandra, book in her lap, “Sister’s hair is usually so flat and dull.” 

 

“Says the girl who has the same head of hair as me,” Amarantha replied dryly, looking in the mirror to play with one of the curls that framed her face. Josie smacked her hand, causing Amarantha to jerk her hand away. 

 

“Don’t touch,” she fussed, “You’ll mess up all my hard work.” 

 

“And we have to make sure she looks her best for Cullen,” Cassandra teased dryly from her seat on the sofa. She had refused to wear anything special tonight, claiming her armor was all she needed. Not even Josephine could convince the Seeker to change, for all her efforts.  

 

Amarantha glanced at her friend through the mirror. “Can you blame me? Good men around here are in  _ short _ supply.” 

 

There was a long beat, then Amaryllis snorted, and Cassandra whacked her playfully with the back of her hand. “Hush. Both of you.” 

 

“Yes, we still need to have a rather long discussion about how  _ that _ came to be,” Josephine remarked with an ease that hid her desperate curiosity. 

 

“There’s nothing to tell,” Cassandra said simply. “We talked, realized we both were attracted to the other, and decided to pursue a relationship.” 

 

“You make it sound so utterly... _ boring _ ,” Amarantha said as she stood, reaching for the rouge Vivienne had used on her at the ball. She began dabbing it on her cheeks, “And you’re the biggest romantic I’ve ever met.” 

 

“It is frustrating, isn’t it?” 

 

The group turned to see Leliana standing at the edge of the stairs, a note in her hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said in an amused tone, sparing a moment to wink at Cassandra, “But I have an important message for the Inquisitor.” She met Amarantha’s eyes in the mirror, and instantly the elf knew that Leliana had news regarding Solas. 

 

“You can go ahead,” Amarantha said slowly, “I haven’t said anything, but they all deserve to know.” Her gaze wandered to the reflection of Amaryllis who was leaning forward, regarding the others curiously. Leliana frowned. 

 

“I am afraid it is not good news.” 

 

That hurt. 

 

“Still,” Amarantha sighed. “The truth deserves to be known.” 

 

Nodding, Leliana stepped to the center of the room, then addressed everyone. “My agents are unable to locate Solas. It is as if he has disappeared.” 

 

“On urgent business,” Amaryllis added simply, then glanced from the spymaster to her sister, “Right?” 

 

Amarantha dropped the puff onto the table and turned to regard her sister, eyes full of sorrow and regret.  “I don’t know.” 

 

“But you said-!” 

 

“I know what I said,” Amarantha said sharply, then stood and moved to her sister and knelt carefully in front of her. “He said something to me that was….I don’t know what to make of it. Then in an instant he was gone. He said he has things to do. What, I don’t know, but he  _ did _ take the orb with him. I was hoping he’d come back, or send a message, or something, so that way I could tell you more. But I don’t know why he left or where he went. And...” She swallowed then added, “I didn’t know how to tell you that he may not be coming back...”  

 

Tears began to pool in Amaryllis’ eyes, “Y-you mean he’s just….gone?” 

 

“I think so.” 

  
  
  


“Did we make him angry?” Amaryllis asked, frantic, “Did we do something wrong?” 

 

“No!” Amarantha replied quickly, reaching out to pull her sister to her. “No. He said he was proud of you. That he loved you very much.” 

 

“Then why didn’t he stay?” She asked, tears streaming down her face. 

 

That same question burned inside Amarantha, wondering what had driven him away so suddenly. What had his parting words to her meant? She squeezed her sister close, feeling her own tears threaten to ruin the kohl Josephine had applied there earlier. She felt the pain of loss, the feeling of abandonment that had replaced Solas’ presence. It didn’t make sense. “I don’t know. He just found me, healed me a little, and said goodbye. There was no time to ask anything. Before I could, he’d vanished. I’m so sorry, little sister.” 

 

“I will continue to send agents out,” Leliana offered softly, “But I cannot guarantee that Solas wants to be found.” 

 

“I can find him,” Amaryllis declared, “In the Fade.” 

 

Amarantha went rigid. Whatever Solas was doing, she felt it best if Amaryllis were not involved. He had been mysterious, vague, apologetic almost to the point of horrific guilt, and Amarantha felt that nothing good would come of her sister seeking out her teacher. But she had kept the knowledge of his disappearance from her: it wasn’t fair to continue to treat her sister like a child. She could handle herself. And at any rate, Leliana was right: If Solas didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. 

 

“Be careful,” was all Amarantha said in response, ignoring the rapid, nervous beating in her chest. 

 

“But first,” Josephine said, breaking the tension that had overcome the room “You must enjoy the evening. Solas will be there when you go to bed, I’m sure. Tonight you should focus on your accomplishments.” 

 

Amaryllis pulled away from her sister and nodded, but it was a weak, fragile nod that hinted at the girl’s heartbreak. First their grandmother had passed, then her sister had left. Then her family had been murdered. How much more loss would the Lavellan sister’s be required to endure? 

 

\-------------

 

Amaryllis was sitting with Cole, talking softly to him as they sipped their spiced cider in the corner. Amarantha was enjoying herself well enough, but guilt over her sister, and the confusion over Solas made it difficult to concentrate on the revelry at hand. Cullen noticed almost immediately, making excuses to one of the nobles who had cornered her into a dull discussion on the Orlesian opera and pulled her aside. 

 

“You and your sister certainly seem grim for such a festive occasion,” he said, keeping a respectable distance from the Inquisitor, even as his tone was intimate and comforting. “Does it has to do with Solas?” 

 

It never ceased to surprise Amarantha how well Cullen seemed to know her. She nodded. “I haven’t been completely honest about what happened.” 

 

Cullen blinked. “How so?” 

 

Amarantha noticed his struggle to breathe, but chose not to fuss. 

 

“He told me some things….personal things I’m trying to understand, but he indicated that he had something…..important to do. And to do it he had to leave. I just...I don’t know what to make of it. I thought he was my friend. But he just left so casually. And now Rilly is heartbroken because he didn’t even say goodbye to her and I feel so guilty for keeping it from her. I  _ never _ keep things from her. I wanted to protect her, but now she’s devastated. She thinks she’s done something wrong.” 

 

“Well,” Cullen said, nose wrinkling the way it did when he was annoyed, “Solas is a fool for leaving without explanation. You respect him and Amaryllis adores him. If that wasn’t enough to offer some  _ actual _ explanation, then he is undeserving of your remorse.” 

 

She didn’t agree, but she felt better for having heard it. “You’re too good to me,” Amarantha whispered, nodding politely to a noble who passed by, eying the couple with interest. 

 

“I try,” Cullen said, reaching out to let his hand rest at her elbow, ignoring the few looks the motion attracted. “I can’t tell you not to dwell on it, but you should try to enjoy yourself. You deserve it.” 

 

“We all deserve it,” Amarantha replied as she looked around at all her companions who were enjoying the festivities. “Everyone of us has sacrificed much for this day to come.” 

 

Cullen smiled at her, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the hushed whispers that followed the action. It hardly mattered. People would talk regardless, and he wanted to comfort his love. Screw the world and their gossip. “Then let’s not let Solas’ actions hinder our triumph,” he said, “The mystery will be there tomorrow. For now, enjoy the fact that you have saved the world.” 

 

Amarantha glanced past Cullen to her sister, then at Cullen, worry shining in her eyes. Cullen stepped back. “I’ll talk to your sister. Go.” 

 

Hesitating only a moment longer, Amarantha turned away and was immediately grabbed by Dorian, who was intent on making a victory speech. He pulled the elf with him up to the throne where he turned with flair and began to address the crowd, his charm and wit drawing everyone’s attention to him. Cullen shook his head in amusement at the Tevinter’s actions, then moved back to the corner where Cole and Amaryllis sat. 

 

Cole’s hat was on Amaryllis’ head, pushed down over her eyes while the boy attempted to tell her a joke. “So then the man says, ‘Ah, that’s why my favorite shirt is stained’.”

 

Amarantha tilted her head back to look at Cole from under the brim of the hat. “That…..was awful,” she said even as her lips curled up in a smile. Cole looked triumphant nonetheless. 

 

“But it worked.” 

 

“I feel like I just missed a good joke,” Cullen said as he approached the two. Amaryllis looked at Cullen from under the hat, her head tilted back comically to be able to see him. 

 

“I don’t think it qualifies as a joke,” she replied, nose wrinkling. 

 

A loud chorus of laughter came from the other end of the room and Cullen glanced back for a moment, then returned his gaze to Amaryllis. “It’s a bit loud in here,” he remarked, “Would you like to join me for some air?” 

 

Amaryllis thought for a moment, looking at Cole expectantly. “You should go,” the boy said. “He wants to help too.” 

 

With a resigned sigh, Amaryllis stood, lifting the hat off her head and offering it to Cole. The boy held out his hand to stop her. “You can wear it tonight,” he said. 

 

Amaryllis put the hat back on her head, this time pushing it back enough so that she didn’t have to tilt her head to see. Cullen offered her his arm and she took it, and the two exited the room, making their way through the rotunda and toward the battlements. 

 

“You know, I assume?” Amaryllis said, voice soft and sorrowful. Cullen nodded. 

 

“I do.” 

 

“Why did my sister keep it from me?” She asked, “She tells you everything. Maybe she told you why.” 

 

Cullen stopped walking and turned, needing to catch his breath. The pain was more irritating than anything now, but he brushed aside the distraction and knelt down in front of the smaller girl. “Because she’s hurting, too, I think,” Cullen said after considering his response. “I don’t know exactly what he said to her, but your sister loved Solas. And now she feels betrayed, as I’m sure you do as well.” 

 

Amaryllis could only look away and nod. 

 

“Your sister may not always make the  _ right _ decision, but she is trying to protect you.” Amaryllis opened your mouth to protest, but at Cullen’s look she refrained .”I know you’re a capable mage; you have proven yourself time and again. I’ve read the reports; I’ve seen you in action. You’re good. But, your sister is just that. Your sister. You’re all each other has left. And she worries. She’s going to want to protect you, even when you think you don’t need protecting. It can and will be frustrating- I’m a younger sibling myself, so I can speak from experience.” He paused to let out a small, short laugh. “But just know your sister didn’t keep it from you maliciously. She wanted to figure out  _ how _ to tell you, as well as make sense of it herself.” 

 

“I….guess that makes sense,” Amaryllis admitted. “I just don’t understand why he didn’t say goodbye to me.” 

 

“I think he was afraid.” 

 

The girl blinked. “Solas? Afraid?” 

 

“Think about it,” Cullen said, lowering himself so he sat cross-legged on the ground. Amaryllis slid down to sit across from him, knees pulled to her chest. “If he had come to you to say goodbye, what would you have said?” 

 

“I’d have asked him not to go,” Amaryllis said instantly. 

 

“Exactly,” Cullen replied, “Whatever Solas is doing, he must find it important, but not so much that had you asked him to stay, he would have done so.” 

 

Amaryllis considered this. She thought for several moments, then sighed. “It still hurts.” 

 

“And it will. But he’ll come back, I’m certain of it.” 

 

“How are you so certain?” 

 

“Because,” Cullen leaned forward, taking one of Amaryllis’ hands in his, “You are far too precious to just leave behind.” 

 

One moment he was holding her hand, the next Amaryllis was in his arms, her own thin one wrapped tightly around his neck, hat hanging precariously on her head. “I love you, Cullen,” she whispered. 

 

Cullen balked at her words, then squeezed her tighter. “I love you, too.” 

 

A moment later, she jerked back. “Your ribs!” 

 

Despite the pain it caused, Cullen laughed and pulled her back to him. “I’ll manage.” 

 

\-------------------

 

“Boss, you need to save the world more often, if this is the kind of celebration we’re gonna have!” Bull proclaimed drunkenly from his seat at the head of the table. Dorian was to his left, legs propped up in Bull’s lap as if he were lounging on a settee, and Amarantha was to his right, curled up in her chair, laughing at his nonsense. 

 

“Bull, why don’t we just skip having to save the world and just have the party?” 

 

Bull’s tankard of ale slammed against the table and he let out a roarous laugh. “Now  _ that’s _ why you’re in charge!” He declared. “To the Boss!” 

 

Everyone chanted in agreement, then took deep drinks from their own glasses. It had been a long night, the party carrying on until late in the evening. A few people had already fallen asleep, but most were still up, talking and laughing and enjoying the fact that for the first time in a long time there was peace. 

 

With the hour growing later, Cassandra felt that it was time she departed and got some sleep. She was not used to being so engaged in a party like this, and she’d enjoyed herself immensely. But she felt weary, the loud revelry finally getting to her, and with a quick word to Amarantha, who was one of the only few  _ not _ drunk, she slipped away to the quiet of the night sky. 

 

There were very few outside. Cullen and Amaryllis were walking the battlements while a couple soldiers made rounds before returning to the party. Cassandra smiled at the thought of the Commander and the Lavellan girls. They had all suffered much and had found each other in a seemingly kind twist of fate. Cassandra had never seen Cullen happier, more at ease than he was when with one or both of the elf girls. It brought to mind her own happiness, still at risk with the potential appointment of Divine, but not even that lingering on the horizon could dampen Cassandra’s spirits. She was fresh off a victory like everyone else, and even with so many uncertainties that lay before them all, the future seemed bright. 

 

Whatever happened, it would be the Maker’s will, and it would work out for the best. 

 

She reached the armory, where her quarters lay nestled above. She reached out for the handle, then thought better of it. She was tired, but something in her desired company more than it desired rest. Turning, thinking of perhaps joining Cullen and Amaryllis for a few minutes, she nearly collided into Varric. 

 

She caught him, and balanced herself, with hands on his shoulders, and looked down at him with wide-eyed surprise. “What are you doing?” She asked, immediately regretting the almost accusatory tone. 

 

“Relax, Seeker,” Varric said, good humor not spoiled by her own clumsiness. “Just thought I’d check on you.” 

 

“I was….going to retire,” Cassandra replied, “But then I...realized I didn’t want to.” 

 

“It’s hard to sleep with so much adrenaline rushing through you,” he agreed, “I haven’t felt this good- about anything- in a long time.” 

 

“You’re injured,” she deadpanned. 

 

“I’m not injured- ow!” He rubbed his arm where she’d lightly smacked it, and he glowered at her. “Mean.” 

 

“Sensible.” 

 

“Too much for your own good at times.” 

 

A small smile graced her lips. “I was worried,” she admitted. “You cannot blame me for wanting to make certain you are well.” 

 

That caused Varric to grin. “What do you know? The Seeker  _ cares _ ,” he laughed. 

 

“Of  _ course _ I do.” 

 

Taking her hands in his, Varric replied. “I’m teasing, Cassandra.” His gaze faltered then, and he sighed, looking away from her to the sky. “It doesn’t feel quite like the victory I was imagining.” 

 

She knew of exactly what he was referring. “No. It doesn’t.” 

 

“I just-  _ really _ wish Hawke was here to see it.” 

 

Cassandra felt her heart lurch at those words. “Varric,” she breathed, removing one hand from his to brush against his cheek. He stepped back, blinking away a few tears and laughed. “I’m fine,” he insisted, then added more firmly as if he were demanding it of himself, “I’m fine.” 

 

Reaching out once more, Cassandra rested her fingers on Varric’s chin, lifting his face up so that their eyes met. “You do not have to be.” 

 

His eyes narrowed, trying to push away the wave of emotion he felt, then he slumped, defeated. “Shit,” he mumbled, “You’re right.” He growled, then turned away. “I didn’t want to do this,” he ranted, mostly to himself, “I had a plan. We won. And I’m better. And it’s supposed to be a  _ good _ night. I was going to find you, drag you back to my room, recite poetry and then have sex so good it would inspire the next series of shitty romantic novels I completely and irrationally intend to write-  _ for you _ \- and now all I can think about is Hawke and how this victory seems completely hollow without her here.” 

 

“I miss Anthony,” Cassandra said suddenly, but her voice was soft and uncertain, “Every day. Every accomplishment I achieve, every battle I emerge from victorious, I want to run to him and tell him about it. But I can’t. And it never stops hurting.” 

 

“Thanks,” Varric said dryly. 

 

Cassandra grunted, annoyed, “What I mean is that...you’re always going to miss your friend just as I am always going to miss my brother. But that doesn’t mean we can’t find joy. That doesn’t mean we have to stop living life simply because they aren’t here to celebrate with us. My brother would want me to be happy, to celebrate. I’m sure Hawke would want you to get drunk, be merry, and have novel-inspiring sex.” 

 

“She’d laugh herself silly if she knew about us,” he said with a chuckle of his own, gesturing to the two of them. “Perhaps we ought to go through with my plan in honor of her. And your brother.” 

 

Cassandra frowned. “I’d rather not think of my brother or Hawke while... lying with you,” she remarked dryly. 

 

Varric laughed at that, once the shock wore off from her statement. He laughed despite his tears until his sides hurt, and then he grabbed Cassandra’s hand. “Come on, my sensible Seeker,” he said, lacing their fingers together. “I’ve got a bottle of wine, a book of the worst poetry ever, and some not so noble intentions.” 

 

Cassandra took a moment to look up at the sky, dark save for the soft blue-green scar that stretched over the black expanse, a reminder of all they had overcome. Then she allowed Varric to pull her with him toward his room. There would be time to mourn. She’d been mourning for years. But for one night, she was going to lay her burdens aside and  _ live _ . 

 

\------------------

 

There was still a semblance of a celebration in the hall, even as some people had dozed off. Others were simply talking, enjoying the last of the wine and cake Josephine had specially ordered for the event. Cullen took a few minutes to speak to some nobles out of a sense of duty more than a desire to hear about the latest scandal in court, but he grit his teeth and played nice, hating the Game but unable to slip from its grasp. 

 

Once he was finally finished, he slipped into Amarantha’s quarters, after finding out from a drunk and giddy Dorian that she had slipped away not that long ago. He had had moments with her throughout the night, but now a new day was dawning and he desired to speak with her. He entered the hallway that led to the stairs, and walked up them slowly, unable to move much faster. He’d exhausted himself this evening, and would no doubt have to make up for it tomorrow with plenty of rest. His chest ached, but the thought of a moment alone with his love spurring him forward. There was so much to do: a war was not over simply because the enemy had been defeated. But for the moment, Cullen was content to focus on what was directly ahead of him. He reached the landing, his gaze catching Amarantha immediately as she stood in the center of the room, staring at her hand. He took a step closer, then paused when he noticed Amaryllis sleeping soundly on the bed. 

 

“Oh,” he breathed, causing Amarantha to turn to face him. “I can come back later.” 

 

“It’s alright,” Amarantha said with a careless wave of her hand. “She’s in the Fade looking for Solas. It’ll take more than us talking to wake her.” 

 

Cullen stepped forward then, pulling his love into his embrace, grateful that he finally could hold her as he wished without the intrusive gaze of others around them. “Is that safe?” He asked, leaning his cheek against her temple, thinking he could fall asleep right there. 

 

“She insisted. She needs the closure, so I’m not going to stop her.” She paused then added, “She told me what you said. Thank you.” 

 

“I hated seeing her upset,” Cullen said, and it was true. He cared about both of them and if he could bring a smile to their faces, ease the ache they felt, he would do it. No matter what. 

 

“I think what you said meant more to her than you know.” 

 

With that, she pulled away, catching Cullen’s hand and leading him out to the balcony where Amaryllis’ bedroll still lay; she slept there on nights when the warmth of the bed became too stifling. “Can you feel it?” She asked as she leaned on the rails. Cullen wrapped his arms around her from behind, looking out over the expanse of snowy mountains with her. It was a beautiful sight, made more lovely by the silence around them. 

 

“What?” 

 

“The world is calm, for the moment. There is still turmoil, but right now, everything is quiet, still.” 

 

“One may call that the calm before the storm.” 

 

“Oh most certainly,” Amarantha said softly, as if afraid speaking louder would disturb the stillness that was draped over Skyhold. “But it’s the calm  _ before _ the storm. We still have time before we must face the world we’ve helped shape.” 

 

“And what would you like to do, then, since we have time?” 

 

Amarantha turned in his arms, linking her own around his neck and studying him lazily. “Well, my first inclination isn’t feasible since my bed is currently occupied,” she said with a wink, “And with your injury... But I suppose that can come later.” She grinned wickedly, and Cullen flushed. “But.... I don’t know….I just keep thinking about the future. And what that means. For the Inquisition and…..for us.” 

 

“Us,” Cullen echoed, “Do you have any ideas on the subject, Inquisitor?” He asked, his tone playful but his eyes full of intent. 

 

“It just so happens that I do.” 

 

“Then by all means.” 

 

She giggled. “I’d like to enjoy further getting to know you. Outside of the uncertainty of death and the world being destroyed. Next, I would like a proposal-  _ intentional _ this time,” she said with a giggle, “Then a lifetime with you as my husband.” 

 

“It sounds as if you have it all planned out,” Cullen replied coolly, though his smile betrayed his tone. 

 

“Only if it meets with your approval,” she amended. 

 

“Oh, I approve,” Cullen said, leaning down to press a kiss to Amarantha’s lips. “I  _ greatly _ approve.” 

 

\------------------

 

_ Amaryllis walked the steps of Haven, unfamiliar but comforting. This was where Solas had taken them the first time they’d gone to the Fade, and Amaryllis thought perhaps it was the best place to start. She walked along the outskirts, then up the stairs into the fortress proper. It was empty, quiet and eery, but she felt no fear. She walked along the rows of buildings, searching and calling out Solas’ name, willing him to come to her.  _

 

_ Her cries were only met with silence.  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did Solas' words mean? Where is he? What's next for the Inquisition? Stay tuned!


	35. Blood of the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amarantha discovers a truth that will change everything.

Chapter Thirty-Five: Blood of the Wolf

 

In the days that followed, the Inquisition was just as busy as they’d been when fighting Corypheus. Nobles were clamoring to meet with the Inquisitor, paperwork had to be read and signed, reports had to be written, and plans had to be made. Everyone was busy, fueled by the victory that had left Thedas regarding them as a great power and influence, and while everyone was running about frantically, everyone was happy. 

 

The Chantry had reappeared to begin demanding that Leliana and Cassandra join them in Val Royeaux for deliberations on the next Divine. Both refused. Both were told it would hurt their chances but neither were moved by the pleas of the poor sister who had been sent to fetch them yet again. Vivienne readily went on ahead, claiming it was best to make her own assessment of the arrangements. 

 

In addition to Inquisition business, personal plans were being arranged, and with that came the understanding that the Inner Circle as they’d known it would not last much longer. Dorian had already remarked on his desire to return home to Tevinter in order to play a part in seeing it restored. Calpernia, who remained in the dungeons for her own safety expressed a desire to help, and after she met with the Inquisitor in a small trial, it was determined that her sentence for her crimes would be to spend the rest of her days working to restore Tevinter  _ properly _ . She would be heavily watched, of course, and Dorian offered to keep an eye on her as he worked his own particular magic to restore Tevinter. 

 

Bull seemed content to stay, as there was plenty of work for the Chargers to do around Skyhold and beyond, but it was easy to see that the impending departure of Dorian made for a solemn state between the two men. Amarantha kept waiting for the moment when Bull walked up to her and informed her he would be following his lover to Tevinter- and remaining there with him. It had yet to happen, but she’d seen the two of them talking intently with one another on a few occasions, so she was ready for it. 

 

Word had also gotten back to her that Varric was planning a trip to Kirkwall, which led her to wonder what that meant for Cassandra. Surely they wouldn’t continue their relationship from afar. Amarantha certainly wouldn’t want to. It was wonderful that there were so many options open for people, but it filled her with sorrow that soon the halls of Skyhold would be much emptier than before. 

 

But while the departure of some friends loomed heavily over her, the top priority was the selection of the new Divine, something which the Chantry would not stop pressing them to address. Josephine managed to buy a little more time by slightly exaggerating their injuries and post-war duties, but it would be soon that several of them would make the trip to Val Royeaux for the proceedings. 

 

At her desk, Amarantha sat with her head buried in her hands as she contemplated all the sudden changes that were due to take place. It was exciting and she didn’t begrudge them at all, but she knew that she would feel an immense sadness at their loss. She had lost so much; it was a shame that she had to lose her friends too, even if they were going on to better things. And she would see them again. They’d all already made that promise that nothing would keep them apart for too long. It was a promise not easily kept, but they had all overcome far greater obstacles before. This would only be a minor setback. 

 

Amaryllis lay sleeping on the bed, once more in the Fade searching for Solas. She’d been determined to find him and had spent all her spare time sleeping, trying to reach her mentor. Amarantha thought it a fool’s errand, but it was important to her sister. So she let her search, hoping that eventually Solas would let himself be seen. For her sister’s sake if nothing else. 

 

Tired herself, Amarantha pushed aside her paperwork, and draped herself over the flat surface of her desk. Her hand, which had been calm since the Breach had been sealed, flickered to life, causing Amarantha to lift her head to examine it. 

 

She recalled her conversation with Solas about the potential beyond simply opening and sealing rifts. He was no longer around to experiment with, and she didn’t want to disturb Dorian while he and Bull worked out their own issues, so instead she turned in her seat, hand outstretched in front of her, and focused. 

 

Magic bubbled forth, controlled and waiting for her command. Her arm trembled, but she kept her focus, recalling all that she knew about the orb and its powers. It opened the Breach; it sealed rifts. She searched her mind- the knowledge from the Well- for more information. She knew it belonged to the Dread Wolf. But that didn’t explain what the orb did beyond opening and closing rifts. 

 

_ What purpose does the orb serve? _ She asked herself as she stared at her hand,  _ And does this magic serve as typical mage magic? Can I tap into it just the same, or is it only good for one thing? Beyond that, what does it mean that I now have magic that was originally meant for the Dread Wolf?  _

 

Something registered then in her mind, and Amarantha froze as her mind began to piece together pieces from a large and complex puzzle. 

 

_ Solas called me ‘wolf girl’,  _ she thought _ , Obviously he knew about the orb. But did he know something else? Is there a more direct connection to the Dread Wolf that I’m missing? _

 

Curious yet motivated, Amarantha began flipping through the books in which she’d written, looking for anything regarding the Dread Wolf. She couldn’t remember writing much about him, but she’d also written so much, had so much fluttering in her mind that she couldn’t keep track of everything that she had poured onto the pages. As she flipped through pages and books, looking for anything from the Well that might reveal to her Solas’ remark, she knocked a couple books off the desk. Her sister did not wake from the loud  _ thud _ , which Amarantha counted as a blessing. She didn’t want to explain to her sister what was going on until she had a clearer grasp on it herself. 

 

Leaning to the side, she grabbed the books she’d knocked over, pausing as her eyes landed on the journal that Amaryllis had found in their family’s trunk. She lay the other book on the desk and reclined back in her seat, holding the journal in her hands, feeling a very strange, haunting feeling settle deep in her stomach. 

 

The words on the cover once more stood out to her, and while before they hadn’t been able to make out the entire phrase, now it sat before her plain as day, no doubt thanks to the knowledge from the Well. 

 

“ _ The blood of the wolf will open the seal.”  _

 

Receiving- even if by mistake- the power of the Dread Wolf, having a family heirloom that referenced a wolf, and being referred as a ‘wolf girl’ by Solas were all too strange occurrences to have been mere coincidence. Feeling a sense of dread, Amarantha placed the journal on the desk and stared at it for a long while.  _ The blood of the wolf….it can’t be.  _

 

Deciding to test her theory, Amarantha reached into the right hand drawer of her desk and pulled out the ornate dragon bone letter opener that she’d been gifted by some noble after she’d become Inquisitor. Staring at it curiously, she took the opener and made a quick slice on her index finger. She winced from the sting, but then pressed her thumb under the wound to let the blood drop from her finger into the indenture of the seal. The moment blood hit the ornate design, it began to sizzle as if it were being burned. The more blood that dripped from her finger, the faster the seal disintegrated, and soon the leather flap that held the seal in place fell open. 

 

_ Why would my family have something that required blood magic? What on earth did Mother want to keep hidden _ ?

 

Sticking her finger in her mouth, Amarantha used her tongue to apply pressure to the wound while carefully opening the cover with her right hand. She leaned closer to inspect the handwriting, then gasped. “This isn’t Mamae’s,” she murmured, pulling her finger out of her mouth. “It’s Grandmamae’s.” 

 

Flipping to a random page, Amarantha began to read. 

 

\--------------

 

**_5 Pluitanis, 9:01 Dragon_ **

 

_ I have heard talk of our clan moving on soon. It breaks my heart that perhaps this will be the end of things, but I have hope that perhaps ma vhenan will be understanding. He is a loner, shy and private, so I know he will have no interest in traveling with my people.  _

 

_ I cannot ask him to. But I do not know what my options are.  _

 

_ I am grateful, above all else, that he has gifted me with this journal to write in. When he is not here, I still feel I am able to speak to him, to share my dreams and my fears. It is not quite the same, but I know that, as with all I tell him, everything in these pages shall remain safe and secure.  _

 

_ If only I were so certain of our future.  _

 

**_17 Pluitanis, 9:01 Dragon_ **

 

_ He asked me to stay!  _

 

_ When I told him of my clan’s plans, I mentioned that I was reluctant to travel far and he suggested that I remain with him so that we could be together without speculation. He is very involved in his research, but he believes I could be of assistance.  _

 

_ I have not been away from my clan in all my years. But for the first time I feel the call to step away from the path that I have always traveled and see what lies beyond the borders set up by my people. There is more, I know it. And now I have the chance to see it with the man I love.  _

 

**_18 Ferventis 9:01 Dragon_ **

 

_ I am suspicious.  _

 

_ I believe ma vhenan is The Dread Wolf.  _

 

_ It is not without reason that I carry these suspicions. He knows so much. He is more than a mere elf who has rejected his clan and wanders as an apostate. His power is too great. I am barely beginning to develop my own mage magic, but even I can sense that he carries a power beyond that of a mere mage.  _

 

_ There is something going on and I am determined to figure out what it is.  _

 

**_21 Ferventis 9:01 Dragon_ **

 

_ While he ventures to a nearby ruin to study, I have done my own research.  _

 

_ We are camped near a statue of Fen’Harel, and I find that it is quite comforting to be so close to the wolf. I need not fear his presence in these woods. Not when I am certain he is who holds me and loves me at night.  _

 

_ I am going to tell him. And I will prove that it does not matter. I am in love with  _ him _ , no matter the form he takes.  _

 

**_1 Solis, 9:01 Dragon_ **

 

_ I told him.  _

 

_ We were sitting together enjoying dinner of berries and wild hare, and he noticed that I was preoccupied with my thoughts. When he finally asked me what I was thinking, I had no choice but to simply blurt out like a foolish girl, “I know you’re the Dread Wolf!”  _

 

_ I do not have proof; not any that would be of value or of much worth beyond a simple  _ feeling _.  _

 

_ And what did he do when I revealed my thoughts? He laughed! Oh, it was such a beautiful, musical sound! I shall never forget it! But he laughed, a deep laugh that was so long and hard he had tears streaming from his eyes. He clutched his sides as if they ached, and for a moment I felt so full of shame that I nearly retreated from the fire to hide in my shame!  _

 

_ But then. But then he sobered and when he looked at me I saw the gleam of pride that was so innate in him. And it was directed at me.  _

 

_ “Very good, ma vhenan,” he said in that voice that leaves me chilled and wanting. “I knew you would figure it out.”  _

 

_ And so I have.  _

 

_ My lover is the Dread Wolf. Fen’Harel.  _

 

_ It is such a strange thing to  _ know.  _ I have long suspected but to  _ know _ it as the truth…. I can hardly believe it. Somehow, the Dread Wolf and I found each other, and I have felt the utmost love and devotion from him! It is I who should worship at his feet but he insists on treating me as if I were the one worthy of praise. Who would have guessed Fen’Harel to be so kind and generous?  _

 

_ I have been blessed indeed. I love him, in every form he takes, and I will be devoted to ma vhenan until my last breath leaves me.  _

 

_ Afterward, he kissed me. He confessed his truth and took me into his arms and kissed me with a passion I had not yet known. How grand it is to be loved by him!  _

 

**_2 Solis, 9:01 Dragon_ **

 

_ He took me to his temple tonight. It is a beautiful place, old and sorrowful from its long years of abandonment, but it was ours for the evening. He made love to me at his altar, told me I was his vhenan, promised to love me forever. I know that he means it. We may not have forever, and I know not what the future holds but I am certain that his heart shall forever beat in tandem with mine.  _

  
  


**_13 Solis, 9:01 Dragon_ **

 

_ We traveled to an old Elven fortress deep in the Frostbacks. It is a remarkable place, though it is once more in ruins. So much of our people has been lost, but Fen’Harel has his own opinions on the matter that he prefers to keep to himself. I do not pry, for it matters not. We cannot change the past.  _

 

_ This place is known as ‘The place where the sky is kept”. It is such a lovely name, such a remarkable place. It is in dire need of repair, but I find I am quite fond of it as it is. And it is for us. We are alone in this place, with nothing but the ghosts of long ago lingering in the shadows to keep us company. I am rather fond of one room in particular. It is a round room in the main keep, the stone spiraling upward. There are a few books left in the library a floor above, though they are scarce and damaged, some to the point of being unreadable. But still. Being able to touch them, to stand in a place where my ancestors once stood: it is the greatest privilege and gift.  _

 

_ Fen’Harel teases me for my nostalgia and appreciation of things dead and gone. I tell him I am fond of things that are  _ old _.  _

 

_ I shall keep the details of his response to  _ that _ close in my heart. I shall simply say that I am rather sore….  _

 

**_14 Solis, 9:01 Dragon_ **

 

_ We departed the Sky-hold, and have made our way south. I do not feel well, but I do not wish ma vhenan to worry. I think perhaps I am merely overworking myself, and might suggest we take a day or so to simply rest. I have become quite adept at convincing Fen’Harel that my way is sometimes best, though I doubt my methods would be welcome or enjoyed were anyone else to attempt them.  _

 

_ Fen’Harel seems pensive, too. I believe that leaving the Sky-hold has saddened him, but his melancholy is more than normal. I like to tease that he is grim and fatalistic but this is beyond that. He acts as if he is at the end of something, but I cannot imagine what.  _

 

_ I am beginning to wonder if he is having doubts about  _ us _. But then he makes love to me with such desire, such passion, such earnest that I curse myself for ever doubting him. But something is the matter, and I intend to discover the truth.  _

 

_ I am just as cunning as he is. The truth will not be kept from me.  _

 

**_16 Solis, 9:01 Dragon_ **

 

_ He is gone. I woke from a dream to find a letter next to my bedroll, an aster flower attached to it. Fen'Harel is gone. He does not say why, only that he has an important duty to accomplish, and that he cannot remain here if he wishes to see his goal accomplished.  _

 

_ I… _

 

_ I am heartbroken.  _

 

_ My suspicions were accurate and I should not have let myself be blinded by his affections.  _

 

_ I…  _

 

_ I do not know what to think. What to say. I must gather my thoughts.  _

 

_ ….  _

 

_ My grief is great and my life has fallen into nothingness before my very eyes. Oh Creators, is this my punishment for loving the one who locked you away? Dread Wolf take you all, then!  _

 

_ For all that I am broken, I cannot regret my love. I cannot hold anger in my heart. He is not one of my people, and he has his reasons.  _

 

_ I pray one day I understand them.  _

 

_ …. _

 

_ Curse this treacherous heart! Curse you, Fen’Harel!  _

 

**_8 Matrinalis 9:01 Dragon_ **

 

_ I am with child.  _

 

_ Oh Creators what will become of me?  _

 

_ I cannot bear a child….  _

 

_ ……. _

 

_ I  _ will  _ bear this child.  _

 

_ I accept it, my last gift from Fen’Harel.  _

 

_ But I cannot remain on my own. And I cannot return to my clan. They will not have me. They will want to know the truth, and I cannot give that to them.  _

 

_ I must find a new clan; I must create a story. I cannot raise a child without aid.  _

 

_ I could find him. He would not abandon me if he knew the truth…  _

  
  


**_11 Matrinalis 9:01 Dragon_ **

 

_ I cannot tell him. _

_ I will not tell him.  _

 

_ If I do, he will surely cease his task- that which is so important to him- and return. I cannot ask that of him. Not when he has given up so much already to see it through.  _

 

_ If he learns the truth, then I will accept his return; but I will not be the reason his plans are foiled, whatever they may be. I will bear this burden alone; on my own terms.  _

 

_ I will love him from afar. And our child will be my secret.  _

 

**_1 Umbralis 9:01 Dragon_ **

 

_ I stumbled upon a clan today. They were kind, welcoming, unlike the others I have crossed. Clan Lavellan, they call themselves. I have heard of them. They are good people, and have taken me in. I did not tell them from whence I came nor my full name. I have claimed I am on the run from a family that sought to take my child. The father was murdered, tragically, and now I fear for my life as well. They seem to believe me, and have offered me shelter.  _

 

_ I shall remain here, for a time. I fear I cannot carry on by myself in my current state.  _

 

_ I have neither seen nor heard from Fen’Harel. Upon a few shrines that I have passed, I have laid offerings, but I have kept my secret safe.  _

 

**_12 Molioris 9:02 Dragon_ **

 

_ I have given birth to a daughter.  _

 

_ Her name is Aster, after the flower my love left me in his departure.  _

 

_ She is beautiful.  _

 

_ Her father would love her.  _

_ \-------------- _

 

Amarantha stared at the pages, mouth agape. Fear and horror and shock gripped her as she flipped through the pages, reading the words of her grandmother, a woman who had always been so wise and sensible, even as she was prone to flights of whimsy, had been the lover of the Dread Wolf. 

 

Feeling sick, Amarantha shoved the book away, hand covering her mouth as she tried to swallow the bile in her throat and information she had just received. The child spoken of, it was her mother. She, Amarantha and her sister, who lay sleeping innocently on the bed, were the descendents of the Dread Wolf. 

 

_ Wolf girl. He knew! How did he know?  _ Amarantha thought in horror, feeling her chest ache as she struggled for deep breaths, feeling her blood rushing and her head swimming. Confused and needing more answers, Amarantha grabbed the book again with shaking hands and flipped through several pages roughly. 

 

**_4 Frumentum 9:07 Dragon_ **

  
  


_ It is hard to believe that so much time has passed since I lay in the arms of my lover. It is hard to believe that we have a daughter who is  _ so _ like him.  _

 

_ She favors me, but her actions are all him. So grim and fatalistic, even as a child.  _

 

_ It has been so long since I have seen my love’s face. Aster asks about her father sometimes. I tell her what I have told all who ask since I found out I had conceived: her father was taken from her. Unjustly, suddenly. But I insist he loved her; loves her. For I know it to be true. Should he ever look over his shoulder and see us there, I  _ know _ that he would fall in love with this child just as I have.  _

 

_ My heart aches but the hole has been filled.  _

 

_ I sometimes wonder if he ever truly loved me.  _

 

_ But then I look at Aster, and I know that he did. It may have only been for a time. But for a time I was loved.  _

 

**_11 Solis 9:08 Dragon_ **

 

_ She asks so many questions! I suppose like father, like daughter. Or like mother. I am rather curious when the occasion calls for it.  _

 

_ She is the darling of Clan Lavellan and I could not be more proud. A little boy seems to have taken a liking to her, and pushed her into a stream this morning. She punched him.  _

 

_ Fen’Harel would have laughed himself mad.  _

 

**_23 Solis 9:08 Dragon_ **

 

_ I miss him.  _

 

_ I find that I am content without him; I have a life and am occupied with raising my daughter and I find that I can sometimes go days without thinking about him.  _

 

_ That comforts and frightens me.  _

 

_ I find myself longing to see his face again, and the only way to do so is to draw it myself. I am no artist but it is the only way I can see him again.  _

_ \------- _

 

On the next page of the journal was a sketch of Fen’Harel. Amarantha looked at it, then balked, eyes wide as she took in the familiar features of the man who was apparently her grandfather. 

 

A man she knew as Solas. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait a week to post this because you guys. YOU. GUYS. HE'S THEIR GRANDFATHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (It'll get explained further). 
> 
> Do you have any idea how excited I am to finally post this chapter? I am SO. FREAKING. EXCITED. 
> 
> I have the suspicion that this wasn't as big as a reveal as I'd hope. Since I'm on the inside, I feel like it's been pretty obvious for a while now, so I'm eager to know if this reveal shocked/surprised any of you. Please let me know. This isn't me just trying to make you all comment or anything; I'd genuinely like some feedback on whether or not I gave it away at any point or if it was a surprise. 
> 
> This moment was the entire reason I started this story. I was creating a new Dragon Age character (my third) and when I did her eyes I found a really pretty color and was like, "Yes. I like this." Then when my character was introduced to Solas, I noticed that their eye color was nearly identical, and I thought, "Well shit. She's an elf. He's an elf. They have the same eye color. WHAT IF THE DREAD WOLF AND AN ELVISH INQUISITOR WERE *RELATED*!?!?!?!?!?!?!" 
> 
> And thus, ACOF was born. 
> 
> Naturally there is so much more to come. How will Amarantha react? How will Amaryllis react? Does Solas even know? What will happen with this crazy family dynamic? God, I am so excited for you guys to see what's next. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	36. A New Rift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Breach is sealed, but a new rift has formed in Skyhold.

Chapter Thirty-Six: A New Rift 

 

The world seemed to disappear, spiraling into a black emptiness with the only thing visible the journal laying on the desk. The image of Solas-  _ Fen’Harel _ \- stared up at Amarantha, mocking her for her ignorance. The image was not the best; certainly her grandmother had not been an artist of the highest degree, but there was enough detail there for there to be no doubt as to who the nameless lover Grandmamae had longed for was. 

 

_ He knew _ , Amarantha seethed,  _ all that time he fucking knew!  _

 

There was something in her, bubbling red hot and violent that burned her very core. He’d known, probably from the moment he met her, and he’d not said a word. He’d acted as if her grandmother was a stranger, pretending to not know her when he’d been her lover! He’d looked her in the eyes and pretended to know nothing about the wonderful woman who loved him. He’d been saddened when he’d learned of her death, but had expressed no more sorrow than he did when he learned of a soldier’s death: just another person in the world. 

 

And what were any of them, when compared to a god? 

 

That red hot rage in the pit of her stomach began to boil, spilling over to the surface in a burst of green swirling magic. It struck the stone wall, crumbling the stone, and in that same moment Amarantha jerked forward and shoved the desk hard, sending it tumbling over, reports,books, and the journal scattering across the floor. 

 

In an instant, Amaryllis shot awake, hand holding a ball of fire as she looked around anxiously, ready to strike. When all she saw was her sister’s heaving shoulders, the mess on the floor, and the journal lying open amidst the mess, she extinguished the flame and slid off the bed. 

 

“Sister?” 

 

Amarantha went rigid at the sound of her sister’s voice, looking slowly to her right to see the small mage standing beside the bed, concerned. In her turmoil, Amarantha had completely forgotten her sister was even in the room. Trying to calm herself, she let her head fall into her hands and took several long, slow breaths. Her hands grew wet with tears, and she trembled all over. The sound of rummaging pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked up to see her sister holding the journal in her hands. 

 

Amaryllis glanced from the journal to her sister. “You got it open?” 

 

Wordlessly, Amarantha nodded. 

 

“Is it bad?” 

 

Unable to help herself, Amarantha let out a short, bitter laugh. “Something like that. Read it. Start at Solis, 9:01 Dragon.”

 

Confused and alarmed, Amaryllis took her place on the bed, opening the journal to the instructed page. Her breath hitched. “Grandmamae wrote this?” What could their grandmother have said that could anger her sister so badly? She read several pages, flipping through in surprise and eagerness to learn more.

 

Suddenly, Amaryllis’ head shot up to look at her sister, who had moved to sit on the sofa, legs bouncing in a rapid motion. “The Dread Wolf?” She breathed. 

 

“That’s not all.” 

 

Amaryllis bowed her head to continue reading. The journal covered years of their Grandmother’s life, and Amaryllis read each section with dread as she looked for what might have upset her sister. She continued to flip through, scanning for anything that might catch her attention when finally she reached a page that featured the image of Fen’Harel that her Grandmother had mentioned before. She looked at it, and froze. “Solas,” she breathed. 

 

Looking up to her sister with wide, confused eyes, Amaryllis whispered, “I don’t understand.” 

 

Amarantha growled. “It’s pretty straightforward. That bastard is the Dread Wolf  _ and _ our grandfather, and he  _ lied _ about it all!” 

 

Where Amarantha was filled with righteous anger, Amaryllis only felt confusion and hope. “But we know now,” she said, tentatively, “That’s why he left. It has to be! Maybe he was afraid we would be angry at him for keeping it a secret. Maybe I can go into the Fade and tell him. Let him know that we know and that it’s okay-” 

 

“It is  _ not _ okay!” Amarantha cried, snapping to sit up straight, face red in anger. She took a moment, then added, more calmly but with a tone that left no room for argument:“And I do not want you going into the Fade anymore. I don’t want him anywhere near you!” 

 

Amaryllis blinked, then stood, clutching the journal to her chest. “That’s not fair! He’s our grandfather! We still have family!” 

 

“And he  _ lied _ !” Amarantha snapped, standing to move before her sister.“He lied about everything! That orb? The one Corypheus used to open the Breach- that gave me this-” she thrust out her hand, where the jagged scar from the mark still lingered on her palm, “That orb belonged to the Dread Wolf! It belonged to Solas! Who gave the orb to Corypheus! This mess is  _ his _ fault!” 

 

“We don’t know that!” Amaryllis argued, her voice growing more shrill in panic, “We don’t know that it was on purpose! It couldn’t be! He  _ helped  _ us! He wanted to stop Corypheus just as much as everyone else!” 

 

“But it doesn’t change the fact that he is responsible for Corypheus getting the orb.” Amarantha countered. “It’s why he didn’t want me to drink from the Well. He didn’t care whether or not I paid the price. He didn’t want me to learn the truth! And Mythal,” Amarantha stopped short, realization dawning on her. She laughed, anger making the sound dark and fearsome, “She  _ knew _ . She looked right at Solas. She knew who he was. And Abelas! They all  _ knew!”  _ She ground her teeth together in anger and whirled about, throwing her arms out as she shouted to the open air, “They all knew everything and they chose to keep me in the dark!” 

 

“Maybe Solas can explain!” Amaryllis insisted, “If I can just find him, talk to him-” 

 

Amarantha turned sharply to face her sister. “No. You’re not going to search for him. Solas is a liar, and he’s  _ dangerous. _ ” 

 

“He wouldn’t hurt me. He loves us!” 

 

“No he doesn’t!” Amarantha snapped, “If he did he would have been honest. He cannot be trusted, and you are not going to look for him anymore.” 

 

“That’s not fair-” 

 

“Fine,” Amarantha sighed, kneeling down in front of her sister. “If you won’t listen to your sister, then listen to the Inquisitor. You wanted to be part of this, remember? And part of that means listening when you’re given an order. So I’m  _ ordering you _ not to go into the Fade. Do you understand me?” 

 

Amaryllis eyes narrowed into a glare. She stared long and hard at her older sister, who had never treated her like this before. She was angry, lashing out, but Amaryllis didn’t understand why. Solas didn’t mean for these things to happen. He couldn’t. He wanted Corypheus gone. He helped the Inquisition. He supported them. Sure he’d lied, but he hadn’t done it to be  _ cruel _ . He’d taught her magic- her grandfather had taught her magic! It wasn’t right that Amarantha was forbidding her from finding her only family. Solas needed to know that they knew. 

 

He didn’t have to be alone anymore. 

 

“Fine,” Amaryllis snapped, throwing the journal down between them. “Whatever you say,  _ Inquisitor _ .” 

 

The title seemed to momentarily stun Amarantha, and she stood up and stepped away, looking at her sister with a look of hurt. She forced herself to take a deep breath, forcing herself to breathe. When she was calmed, she bent down and plucked the journal from the ground. 

 

“We’ll discuss this further, later,” she said, voice trembling as she tried to maintain the composure she’d forced over herself. “Until then, I need to summon the council.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

“Solas  _ lied _ ,” Amarantha stressed, “And whatever he’s doing- whatever made him  _ leave our grandmother _ has to do with this orb. We have to figure out what’s going on.” She turned to leave, then paused and glanced back over her shoulder. “You can come if you wish.” 

 

“Yes, Inquisitor.” 

 

Amarantha looked as if she wanted to argue being called that, but she pushed it aside and walked out of the room, Amaryllis hot on her heels. 

 

Then she hardened herself again, grabbed the book and turned away. 

 

Amarantha caught a soldier outside her quarters by the arm and said with a stern tone, “Fetch the Commander, Leliana, and Cassandra. It’s urgent.” 

 

The soldier nodded and turned to run, grabbing a friend on the way to help deliver the message. Amarantha marched straight into Josie’s office, stopping only long enough to say, “I need you. Now.” 

 

Josie looked up from the letter she was writing, watching as Amarantha threw the door open and disappeared, long strands of blond hair flowing out behind her, Amaryllis right behind her, worry etched into her young features. Josie stood, alarmed, and followed the two sister through the door and toward the war room. She could see from the way Amarantha stormed down the hall that now was not the time to ask what was going on, so she merely pressed her lips together and continued on silently. 

 

Amarantha entered the war room, dropping the book in her hands unceremoniously onto the table, making the markers that were still in place shake. Amaryllis moved past her sister to the other side of the table, taking the spot where Cullen usually stood. Josie’s brow furrowed at that. But again, she merely waited, knowing sometimes silence was the best response. 

 

A few minutes later had Cullen, Cassandra, and Leliana rushing in, each looking concerned and out of breath. They made their way to their respective spots, and Amaryllis latched onto Cullen instantly, grabbing his hand in hers and stepping closer to him. Cullen glanced between the sisters in confusion, but said nothing as he gently moved Amaryllis to stand in front of him, letting his left hand come to rest on her shoulder. 

 

“Is everything alright?” Cassandra asked, pushing some strands of hair out of her face. From the flush on her cheeks and the way she was slightly panting, it was clear that she had been out training. 

 

“No,” Amarantha said sharply, flipping the book open to the necessary page, turning it so the others could see it. “Look.” 

 

Leliana was the first to speak. “That is Solas.” 

 

“Indeed,” Amarantha sneered, “Also, apparently, known as the Dread Wolf.” 

 

A chorus of “what!” echoed around the room. Amarantha crossed her arms over her chest. “He,” she said, the word a curse on her lips, “Lied to us all.” 

 

“You mentioned after the Well that the orb was the Dread Wolf’s,” Cullen spoke up, his voice gentle and soothing. Amarantha softened at his words, even as anger flashed in her eyes, “So Solas is how-”

 

“That lying wretch!” Cassandra snapped. 

 

“He helped us!” Amaryllis shouted, causing Cullen to flinch in surprise, “You all keep getting mad about the orb but no one seems to remember that he helped us destroy it!” 

 

“He didn’t want it destroyed!” Amarantha snapped at her sister, her composure weakening with every moment. “He wanted it  _ back _ . To use.” 

 

“You don’t know that!” Amaryllis shouted back, tired of her sister’s undue anger. Leaning forward with hands flat against the table, she glared at her sister. “You keep accusing him of things that you don’t know are true!” 

 

Amarantha had had enough. “Y _ ou _ are blinded by your emotions!” She shouted. 

 

“And you’re just mad because he was afraid to tell us-” 

 

“ _ Enough!”  _

 

Amaryllis flinched, recoiling back into Cullen’s embrace. He rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, then looked up at Amarantha with concern and confusion. “Amarantha,” he said, voice stern. “It’s all right.” 

 

“No,” she said, calming herself, hands gripping the table. “It isn’t.” 

 

“It is grave indeed,” Leliana agreed with the Inquisitor, “That he was able to keep such information from us. And not only that, but he is the dreaded trickster god of your pantheon?” 

 

“Yes,” Amarantha bristled, “I’m starting to get quite fed up with my gods lying to me.” 

 

“But he-” Amaryllis started, but was hushed by Cullen squeezing her shoulder. She looked up at him and he shook his head gently. Amaryllis went silent, letting her head hang. 

 

“If you want to tell them,” Amarantha said, addressing her sister, “Then by all means. But it changes  _ nothing _ .” 

 

“What else could there be?” Josephine asked fretfully, “This is bad enough!” 

 

The others looked to Amaryllis then, expectantly. She swallowed thickly, glanced at her sister, whose arms were crossed and was facing away from them. She wished Amarantha would be a little happy with the revelation. “Solas… is our grandfather.” 

 

There was a long trail of silence, then Josephine’s voice broke it, exclaiming, “What?” 

 

Pulling out of Cullen’s grip, Amaryllis leaned over the table, stretching far to reach the journal, and flipping it back numerous pages. She then picked it up and read: 

 

“ _ I  _ will  _ bear this child. I accept it, my last gift from Fen’Harel. But I cannot remain on my own. And I cannot return to my clan. They will not have me. They will want to know the truth, and I cannot give that to them. I must find a new clan; I must create a story. I cannot raise a child without aid. I could find him. He would not abandon me if he knew the truth… ” _

 

She lowered the book and looked at the others. “Grandmamae always talked about her love and how he left her. She never said his name. But she wrote all about him in here. Mamae is the daughter of Fen’Harel. And we’re his granddaughters. Sister thinks he knew.”

 

“ _ Of course  _ he knew!” She interrupted hotly, “We look like her. Either he knew and he  _ lied _ or he forgot what his  _ vhenan _ looked like. Either way he  _ betrayed _ us.”  

 

“And he’s the only family we have left!” 

 

Amarantha’s eyes went cold. “That man is  _ not _ my family.” 

 

With that she turned and stalked out of the room, door slamming hard behind her. The others looked at each other wordlessly for a long while before Leliana cleared her throat and supplied: 

 

“I think your sister is merely shocked.” Her voice was calm, acting as the reason needed in the moment. “And everyone handles such surprises as these differently. Give her time.” 

 

Amaryllis nodded. Then Cassandra gestured toward the door. “Perhaps I should find the Inquisitor,” she said, before stopping and asking the question everyone was thinking: “What are we going to do?” 

 

“We do nothing,” Leliana said, “Tell no one. Finding Solas is one thing; finding this  _ Fen’Harel _ is another matter entirely. We must exercise caution.” 

 

“But he’s not bad!” Amaryllis protested. 

 

Cullen moved to kneel in front of her. “Maybe not,” he said gently, wiping the tears that were slipping down her cheeks, “But he did keep valuable information from us. And he kept his real identity a secret. He may have helped us, but right now we don’t know what his motives are.” 

 

When she tried to protest, Cullen stopped her with a look. “I know you care for him. But for now we need to be wary.”

 

“I don’t want to be mad at him,” she whimpered, “Is that so wrong?” 

 

“I think,” Cullen said, having no idea what to say in the strange situation he’d found himself, “That it’s complicated. But you can’t change how you feel any more than your sister can change how she feels, yes? Give her time. We will try to figure out what’s going on.” 

  
  


\-------------------------

 

Cassandra saw no sign of the Inquisitor when she left Josie’s office. The elf had all but vanished in a flurry of anger, but Cassandra was determined to find her and talk to her. It was serious, knowing that Solas had lied. She had suspected him, in the beginning, of not being all he claimed to be, but he had earned her trust- earned  _ everyone’s  _ trust. And now he had been revealed to be… something Cassandra didn’t entirely understand. 

 

She moved toward the building’s entrance, stopping when she saw Varric at his usual spot, quill in his hand but his gaze was pointed toward the exit, where Cassandra assumed Amarantha had just gone through. He turned his attention to her a moment later as she approached and gave her a look of concern.“What the hell is going on? 

 

“I do not have time to explain. But it is not good.” 

 

Varric’s face twisted, “Is there anything I can-” 

 

“It’s more a personal issue,” she assured him quickly, “But still...it….I’ll explain later.” With that she stood and rushed outside, eyes scanning everywhere for sight of the signature long, blonde, locks that fanned out behind the elf like a cape. 

 

She found her in the gardens, standing with arms crossed, staring at the trees that had been planted in memoriam of her clan. Her fingers gripped her arms tightly as she stared, brow creased and eyes wet with tears. Cassandra moved to stand beside her, mimicking her pose. She said nothing for a long while, giving Amarantha the companionship and silence the elf no doubt craved. 

 

“All my life,” Amarantha spoke eventually, softly, voice full of anger, “I’ve been told stories. Stories of the gods and why I should worship them. Stories of the Dread Wolf and why he was to be feared. My Grandmother always scoffed at those tales. Said the Dread Wolf wasn’t like that. She refused to believe it. Now I know why. She was his lover. No doubt he tricked her. And what’s worse is she knew who he was! She let him take advantage of her!” 

 

“We will know his motives for certain when we find him,” Cassandra said cautiously. “He will have much to answer for.” 

 

“And my sister,” Amarantha whispered, carrying on as if she hadn’t heard her friend, “She is just willing to forgive him! How can she be so-” 

 

“She wants her family,” Cassandra said simply, causing Amarantha to turn and stare. “Can you blame her? Besides you, he is all she has.” 

 

“She has Cullen,” Amarantha said instantly, “She has you. She has the Inquisition. Why does she want the one person who clearly doesn’t give a shit about us?” 

 

“You know that isn’t tr-”

 

“He left us, Cassandra!” Amarantha shouted tearfully, causing people nearby to stop and stare. She realized her outburst had drawn attention and sighed, lowering her voice to address Cassandra softly, “He left my grandmother. He’s got some….plan,” she said, hands moving in front of her as she tried to form the words, “He left my grandmother, and now he’s left us. Whatever his goal is….whatever he wanted that orb for….it’s clearly more important to him than his family. Because he  _ knew _ .” 

 

Cassandra blinked. “Did he say something?” 

 

“Yes,” Amarantha replied. “He called me-” she broke off, a sob choking her. “Before he vanished. He healed me and then… he called me his  _ wolf girl _ . Like it was some kind of compliment. Like I should be  _ proud _ of what I am.” 

 

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Cassandra replied. Amarantha laughed bitterly. 

 

“Don’t I? The heir to the one god my people feared? Deceived by that very man into doing what he wanted? His orb is why I have the mark. He wanted Corypheus destroyed and he gave me information. Claimed it was from the Fade. He led us to Skyhold- which by the way, he brought my Grandmother here when they were together! He acted strange at the Temple of Mythal. Didn’t want me to drink from the Well. She knew, by the way. Mythal took one look at Solas and she knew who he was. Solas used me. The Dread Wolf used me. My  _ grandfather _ .  _ Used. Me.” _

 

With that, Amarantha pressed her hand to her forehead and began to cry. Her body shook, anger and sorrow and hurt all sweeping their way through her as she succumbed to the understanding of everything she had learned. Wasting no time, Cassandra enveloped her friend in an embrace, holding her close and rubbing her back soothingly. She wasn’t the best at offering comfort, but she would try for her friend. 

“We’ll find him,” Cassandra said, “And then you’ll get your answers.” 

 

“No,” Amarantha said sadly, pulling away and wiping her eyes. “He’s played us for a long time. Before I was even born. He’s going to be one step ahead. We’ll only catch him if he  _ lets _ us. So we have to be ready.  _ I _ have to be ready.” She seemed to come back to herself then, and she looked toward the keep, pained. “I shouted at my sister.” 

 

“You didn’t mean it.” 

 

Amarantha’s eyes slipped shut. “Yes I did.” 

 

“Then you apologize,” Cassandra said simply. Amarantha shook her head. 

 

“It’s not that simple. Amaryllis won’t change her mind. She’s going to want to talk to Solas, try to convince him she understands. That he doesn’t have to do….whatever…..alone. I know her. She’s enamored with him. And now knowing…..what he is…..she’s going to be even more determined to bring him back.”

 

“And you don’t want that.” 

 

“He’s a liar. He abandoned his-  _ my _ family. He used us. I...I’m in no mind to ever forgive him. Not after this.” 

 

“In time perhaps she’ll understand,” Cassandra said softly, resting her hand on Amarantha’s arm. “But you must also come to a place where you can understand her point of view. She is young. I remember being her age and wanting nothing more than to have my family. Regardless of what they may have done.” 

 

“That’s the problem,” Amarantha said sadly, “I don’t think we’ll ever see eye to eye on this. Not this time.” 

 

\---------------

 

“Shit!” 

 

“Well I’ll be damned.” 

 

Dorian, Varric, Sera, Bull, Blackwall, and Cassandra sat together at a table at the Herald’s Rest, talking quietly amongst themselves. Most of the other patrons had left for the evening, but there were still a few stragglers left. Cabot had tossed Dorian the keys to lock up and had headed off to bed, and so the group sat huddled together discussing the events of that morning. 

 

“It has been decided that we need to keep this quiet,” Cassandra said, looking pointedly at Sera, who was far too horrified to be offended. “So not a word.” 

 

“Hold on a moment,” Dorian said, lowering his tankard to the table, “So Solas  _ knew _ they were related?” 

 

“Amarantha believes so. His parting words to her were quite....odd. Until she put the pieces together, that is.” 

 

“So you’re telling me, that that homely apostate managed to trick a Ben-Hassrath spy-” 

 

“ _ Former _ Ben-Hassrath spy.” 

 

“Whatever,  _ and _ our own esteemed Nightingale,” Varric said, aghast. “Well I’ll be damned.” 

 

“It is of great concern,” Cassandra agreed, “Especially as we do not know what he plans to do. But as much as that  _ is _ a concern, right now our focus needs to be on the Inquisitor and Amaryllis.” 

 

“How are they handling it?” Bull asked. Cassandra's face was grim. 

 

“They are in vast disagreement on how to handle things. Amarantha is... I have never seen her so angry.” 

 

“How angry we talking?” Varric asked, genuinely curious. Cassandra tossed him a look. 

 

“Book stabbing angry.” 

 

His face fell. “Shit.” 

 

“Yes,” Cassandra agreed, “And Amaryllis is hurt, but wants to find him. Wants reconciliation. Amarantha-” 

 

“Wants the bastard’s head on a stick,” Bull finished for her. “Can’t say I blame her.” 

 

“But he  _ is _ family,” Dorian protested, causing several brows to raise. “What? I’m man enough to admit that through my own scruples with my father I’ve learned a few things. I’ll never trust him again, that’s for certain, but there’s always room for.... something, if all parties are willing to work together.” 

 

“Well, well, look at you being all mature and forgiving,” Bull said, and while he said it teasingly, he meant it with sincerity. Dorian offered him a cheeky grin in response then said, “I’m not saying I’ve forgiven the man. I haven’t. Not after what he did. But I’m not saying that there’s no hope for an eventual and mutual understanding. There's a difference. Perhaps our dear Petal just needs some time.” 

 

“Yeah but until one of them comes around, they can’t be at odds with each other, “Varric said, “It’s been tense all day.” 

 

“Indeed,” Cassandra agreed, “They fought. Openly. In front of us. Snapped at each other. I’ve never seem them like that before.” 

 

“Well just lock ‘em both in a closet until they kiss an’ make up!” Sera remarked casually before making a face. “Figuratively, o’ course.” 

 

“Well, what’s Curly doing about this? They both have him wrapped around their fingers,” Varric asked from his place next to Cassandra. She nudged him sharply. 

 

“They do not,” she said. 

 

A chorus of agreement on Varric’s side followed, and Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Perhaps they do a little,” she conceded. “But he’s been with Amaryllis. Or he was when I left to find the Inquisitor.” 

 

“Cole is with Sprout now,” Bull said, “I heard them on the roof on my way in.” 

 

“So Cullen is probably with our dear Inquisitor, then,” Dorian said. “At least neither are alone.” 

 

“But they are divided,” Cassandra said, “And that’s much worse.”  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who replied to let me know about whether the reveal last chapter was a surprise: THANK YOU SO MUCH! 
> 
> So what do you think now? Obviously personal situations can cause people to behave irrationally, but who are you more inclined to side with in this scenario? Amarantha or Amaryllis? (Keep in mind what they currently know as opposed to what we know IRL.) I think they both have very valid concerns and opinions, and both are very passionate about those feelings, which makes it hard for them to appreciate the other's POV. Family drama can be messy business......


	37. A Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once a united front, the others have no idea how to handle the divided sisters.

Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Gathering 

 

Amaryllis sat with Cole on the roof of the tavern. He’d led her there after she’d come to him crying, asking him to help her. Cole had pulled her into his arms, holding her tight as she cried, her hurt loud and forceful. Cole held her close, wishing that he could simply help and disappear like before. But then Amaryllis wouldn’t remember him, and Cole rather liked that she did. 

 

So he led her to the roof where they sat and he let her pour out all her anger, confusion, and hurt. 

 

“He never wanted to hurt you,” Cole said at last, “He loved you very much.” 

 

Amaryllis looked at Cole suspiciously for a long moment. “You knew.” 

 

The boy nodded. “Yes. I could feel it, before.” 

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

 

“I heal hurts. I don’t share them. He asked me not to because it would hurt him if you knew. He was always going to leave. Having you know would have made it impossible.” 

 

Amaryllis sniffed. “Impossible?” 

 

“I remember his thoughts: ‘Soft, kind, caring. She’s so curious, just like  _ her _ . I never knew and if I had…would I have stayed? Love, laughter, a lifetime of simple pleasures. Could it have been enough? I must leave because I know it could be.’” 

 

Amaryllis’ lips twitched in a fleeting smile. “He cared.” 

 

“He hurts now, I think. He misses you.” 

 

“Do you know where he is?” 

 

Cole shook his head, and Amaryllis felt her hope dwindle. “He won’t let me see. I’m not strong enough, now that I’m more human. But I think he knows you’ve looked for him. And he stays away because he isn’t strong enough otherwise.” 

 

“I wish Sister understood that.” 

 

Cole moved closer, wrapped his arm around Amaryllis’ shoulders. “Your hurt is the same, but it’s different. I can’t help Amarantha this time. She’s in her head again but this time she’s not lost. But I can help you.” 

 

Amaryllis leaned her head against his shoulder, taking comfort in his presence. “You always help me, Cole.” 

 

Cole pulled his hat off, letting it balance on his leg and let his cheek rest against her temple. They remained there for a long time, sitting in silence as Skyhold carried on as normal. After a while Cole carefully leaned back, bringing Amaryllis with him so that they were reclined on the slope of the roof, Amaryllis curling into him as she drifted off. Cole held her close, wishing that he could find Solas for her. Nothing else would help. 

 

\------------------

 

Amarantha and Cullen lay on her bed, fingers laced together as they faced each other. Her face was stained with tear streaks, eyes still puffy from where she’d cried earlier. Cassandra had helped, her council always tried and true, but it didn’t quite ease the ache of betrayal that Amarantha felt so sharply within. 

 

Cullen had found her after Amaryllis had gone off in search of Cole. He’d chosen to find Amarantha after that, knowing that the younger sister was in good hands. But someone needed to be there for the elder, and so he went in search of her. When he’d finally found her in her room, she was sitting at the foot of the bed, forehead touching her bent knees, sobbing. He’d pulled her to bed, and told her to cry as much as she needed to. 

 

Other than a few more stray sobs, she’d been quiet since his arrival, calm but reserved. It concerned the Commander to see her like this. He’d witnessed her reaction to numerous trials: her clan’s murder, the aftermath of her trip to the Fade. She’d always lashed out when she had hidden away from others, and she had done the same that afternoon in the war room. But since then she’d been silent. 

 

He wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

 

“Why would he keep it from us?” 

 

Cullen blinked, glancing up to see Amarantha staring at him with haunted eyes. She’d been so quiet when she spoke that he’d almost missed her. He thought for a moment, then shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the mattress. 

 

“Fear, perhaps. Of your anger.” 

 

She snorted at that, then turned to lie on her back. “The Dread Wolf isn’t supposed to be afraid of anything.” 

 

Cullen propped himself up on his elbow. “For all he can apparently do, he’s still just a man.” 

Amarantha sniffed, wiped quickly at a tear. “You wouldn’t say that about Andraste.” 

 

“No,” Cullen said, after a long moment. “No, I wouldn’t.” 

 

Amarantha sighed and sat up, head in her hands. “I have to get over it,” she said simply, as if the mere words would cure of pain. “He didn’t care enough to give me the truth; didn’t care enough to stay. There’s too much to do to worry about him. I have to...I have to forget about it.” 

 

“I don’t think it’s that easy,” Cullen said, following her lead to sit beside her. “But if that’s what you want.” 

 

“I want to find him,” she replied quickly, “But I know he won’t face me until  _ he’s _ ready to do so. And I can’t live on his terms.” 

 

“No you can’t.” He rubbed her back soothingly, then added, “But you also can’t keep avoiding your sister.” 

 

Amarantha bristled. “She won’t listen to me,” she replied casually, “And until she’s ready to understand the truth and severity of the situation, I’d rather not deal with her naive optimism.” 

 

“I’m sure she understands,” Cullen remarked, “She merely wants her family.” 

 

“I’m so sick of that word being thrown around,” Amarantha huffed. “Her  _ family _ is the one who gave Corypheus the orb in the first place, which led to the death of our parents  _ and  _ our clan!” 

 

Cullen paused. So  _ that _ was the root of the problem. Amarantha blamed Solas for the death of her people in Corypheus’ mad quest for godhood. Cullen certainly couldn’t blame her for making the connection. He wasn’t sure if he would apply their death directly to Solas, but it was not his place to take sides in this. 

What mattered was that Amarantha was hurt, the pain of losing her family ripped open once more by the knowledge that a man she had trusted and loved had been the one to- even inadvertently- cause her to lose them. Cullen’s heart ached for her and he pulled her into his arms, grateful that she went willingly, clinging to him desperately. 

 

“Shh,” he whispered, stroking her hair, fingers catching in the tangles. “It’s all right. It’ll be alright.” 

 

She said nothing in response, merely nodded her head weakly, and silently cursed the Dread Wolf for living up to his tales. 

 

\-----------

 

The next day the group gathered again at breakfast, talking quietly amongst themselves. Cassandra had been assigned guard duty, watching for either of the girls so they could pretend they were not discussing them. 

 

“We have to do something,” Dorian insisted, pulling his piece of bread apart into small chunks. “When I came down, Rilly was sleeping in the rotunda.” 

 

“Why’s that important?” Sera asked, mouth full of food. 

 

“Because,” Bull supplied, “It means that one, she’s desperate to be close to Solas, and since the rotunda was where they spent most of their time, that’s where she’s the most comfortable. And two, it means that the sister’s didn’t talk.” 

 

“How’d you know that?” Sera asked again. 

 

“Because otherwise they’d have been together. When they’re here, they’re usually together. They’ve not been together since the council meeting yesterday where shit hit the fan.” 

 

“So what do we do?” Varric asked as he reached for some of the strawberries that had been freshly picked that morning. “Because I don’t know shit about reconciling sisters.” 

 

“We can’t do anything,” Cassandra remarked softly, causing several pairs of eyes to turn to her. She was leaning against the wall, peeking out of the crack in the door, the small sliver of light from the hallway sliding across her cheek. “They are not going to be forced. And they both have very set and opposing views on the situation.” 

 

“Well, where do  _ we _ stand?” Dorian asked helplessly, “I mean obviously we’re all some degree of pissed off at the asshole for hurting our friends and causing this entire mess, but that’s almost….trivial to the  _ real _ issue of a rebel god on the loose.” 

 

“But which issue do we focus on?” Bull countered gently, “Do we worry about a god or do we worry about helping those two work out their issues? “

 

“I think I can shed some light on that.” 

 

Cullen had entered, nodding to Cassandra as he moved toward the table. Varric shifted closer to Dorian to make some room and the Commander sat down, patting Varric on the shoulder in thanks. “Amarantha is still asleep. She’s exhausted.” 

 

“Any other time, I’d make a lewd remark about that, but considering the circumstances.” A grape whacked Varric on the head and he looked over, glaring playfully at Cassandra. “Hey! I said  _ any other time.”  _

 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise, then turned to Cullen. “What did she say?” 

 

Cullen sighed. He had dark circles under his eyes and it was clear to the others that he’d had a rough night. “She blames Solas for the death of her family. By him giving the orb to Corypheus, that started the mess with the Venatori who were the ones to find her clan and kill them. You’ll recall the report: they were disguised to look like regular travelers. But their assault was intentional. Corypheus went for her clan. And Amarantha thinks that if Solas hadn’t done what he did, they’d still be alive.” 

 

“But surely she understands that Solas never intended that-  _ especially _ if they are related.” Josephine spoke up, having otherwise been quiet until then. 

 

“Yes,” Cullen agreed, “And that’s my opinion on the matter. I don’t think Solas is directly responsible. He will have to answer for a great deal, including that, but I would not accuse him of direct murder of Clan Lavellan. Though, to be fair, I understand how she makes the connection. And I certainly don’t blame her for her anger; she’s devastated by her family's’ death. And I think there’s comfort in actually having someone to blame.” 

 

“Why not blame Corypheus?” Cassandra asked. “The Venatori?” 

 

“Because,” Dorian spoke up, voice dark, “It’s easier to find faults in the ones we love. Solas hurt her by leaving. That is the very base fact. Knowing that Solas concealed all this information: his being related to them, leaving their grandmother, being a fucking  _ god  _ or whatever he is, and being responsible for handing the orb over to Corypheus- no matter his intentions- it’s a lot to take in. And with all that hurt, it’s easy to just project the worst onto him. Hating Corypheus was one thing: he was a mad bastard who was hellbent on destroying the world. But Solas? He  _ betrayed _ her. Us, too. Anything else he does is just going to seem like an intentional slight, even if it isn’t.” 

 

The others were quiet for a long moment. Bull rested his large hand over Dorian’s, who any other time might have shoved him away and playfully teased. But he merely sat there, and the others let his words sink in. 

 

“He’s right,” Cassandra agreed at last. “It’s easy to project our anger on someone we care about when they do something wrong. Or, at least, what we perceive as wrong.” If anyone noticed her eyes focusing on Varric, they remained silent. Varric offered her the smallest hint of a smile, understanding exactly where she was coming from. She’d cared, even back then, and part of that had made the hurt of his lies all the more prominent. 

 

“No wonder she’s pissed,” Varric remarked, trying to lighten the mood. “That was a lot to learn about the guy in just a few short pages.” 

 

“But that still leaves the problem of what we do about it,” Bull said. 

 

“Nothin’,” Sera spoke up instantly. The others looked at her suspiciously. “No, hear me out,” she said quickly, “Think about it. Both of ‘em are all pissed off an shite about that grumpy bastard bein all elfy and god-like or what the hell ever he’s ‘posed to be. An’ both of ‘em are at odds with each other. Well, what we need to do is just….not be at odds. No takin’ sides. Support ‘em both! Treat ‘em like they're freaking grown ups and they’ll come around so long as they know that regardless of how they feel - and let’s be honest, gramps is their, well,  _ gramps _ , and their feelings on  _ that _ part of it all is all that matters- the rest’ll be dealt with. If Leliana’s agents catch the slimy bastard. But until then, we just need to show ‘em that- unlike the dread arsehole- we’re  _ here _ .” 

 

Sera was met with silence for a long moment, then Varric made a sound, low in his throat and said, “Well what do you know. She actually has decent idea.” 

 

Sera beamed. 

 

“She does have a point,” Cullen agreed, feeling a little strange to be agreeing with the wild, usually immature girl. “They need us. We’ll deal with Solas when the time comes. We’ll have to, if he poses a threat. I’m not entirely certain he does. He may have given Corypheus the orb-” 

 

“The question there is  _ why _ ,” Cassandra added. Cullen nodded. 

 

“Exactly.  _ Why _ is what we need to know. But what we do know is that Solas worked with us to stop Corypheus, and in the process the orb was destroyed.” 

 

“We don’t know if he can fix the orb or not, though,” Bull pointed out wisely. 

 

“Exactly,” Cullen said, “So,” he turned to Dorian, “I know you’ve plans to travel back to Tevinter, but-” 

 

“You want me to do a little light reading in the meantime?” 

 

“If you would,” Cullen said. The mage nodded. 

 

“Of course.” 

 

“Good,” Cullen said, “As for the rest of it, Leliana is working on finding leads. If he’s out there, she’ll find him….whether it’s by his design or not is yet to be seen, but again, we’ve more pressing matters to attend to. For now we need to just be there for them both.” 

 

“But if they don’t straighten themselves out soon, we will be forced to consider Sera’s idea of locking them up,” Varric remarked. 

 

Again, Sera beamed. 

 

“If it comes to it, then we will,” Cullen said with a shake of his head. “Until then, business as usual. And don’t mention Solas unless they do it first.” 

 

The group seemed in agreement with that and then the conversation began to flow to other topics, including figuring out the best time to get in one last game of Wicked Grace before people began to disperse. Cassandra returned to her place across from Varric and filled her plate with some fruit, and soon she and Cullen were discussing training exercises and which ones were the most effective. 

 

Conversation halted however when the door slipped open and Amarantha stepped inside, freezing when she saw all eyes on her. “Was there a meeting, or-?” She asked. 

 

“Nah,” Varric spoke up, “What with all the urgency of saving the world out of the way, we just managed to catch each other at the same time. Sit down, Inquisitor! These two,” he said, gesturing to Cassandra and Cullen, “Are incredibly boring.” 

 

A small, hesitant  smile flickered across her lips and she moved to join them, sitting next to Cassandra and nodding to Sera in greeting before hesitantly reaching out to pluck a strawberry from the tray in front of her. Slowly, conversation picked back up and soon it was a loud mess of noise, people talking over each other and laughing as if nothing were wrong. Amarantha didn’t join in, but she did enjoy watching it all, and before long people began to get up to see about their duties. Plans were quickly finalized that Wicked Grace would be two nights from then, and with that people dispersed until only Varric, Cassandra, Amarantha, and Cullen remained. Varric stood, moved around to the other side of the table, and placed a kiss to Cassandra’s cheek. 

 

“See you later, Seeker,” he said in a low, loving voice, then saluted the other two and sauntered out of the room. Flushing, Cassandra made her own excuses and left as well, leaving the lovers alone. Amarantha wasted no time reaching out to take Cullen’s hand. 

 

“You look tired,” she said, voice raw and face twisted in remorse, “I’m so sorry.” 

 

“No,” Cullen said, “You have nothing to be sorry about.” 

 

“You’re wrong,” she said with a sad smile, “But thank you.” She paused then, added slowly, “Has my...has Rilly…” 

 

“I’ve not seen her,” Cullen said. “Dorian mentioned he saw her sleeping in the rotunda earlier.” 

 

She looked stricken. “Oh.” 

 

Cullen squeezed her hand. “Do you want to…?” He trailed off, waiting on her lead. 

 

“No,” she shook her head, standing abruptly. “I have work to do.” 

 

“Very well,” Cullen said, standing with her, “Then I will see you this evening. I have some reports of my own to finish.” He made a face, glad that his small effort caused Amarantha to giggle. It was soft and faint, but it was there. 

 

“Later, then.” 

 

They shared a quick kiss, then went their separate ways. Cullen rubbed his hand on his neck, wishing he knew how to help the sisters overcome this thing between them. He wandered back to his office where several reports were waiting for him. He stared at them for a long moment, then pushed them aside and pulled out a blank sheet. Making himself comfortable, he began to write. 

 

_ Dearest Mia,  _

 

_ The battle against Corypheus is over, and now that things are calm - if only for a moment- I thought I might attempt to be a decent brother and actually write you.  _

 

_ I miss you, terribly.  _

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last several chapters of the story just went through a semi-major rewrite. I think I'm finally happy with everything. Or at least, happy enough that I think I can leave well enough alone.


	38. A Chain of Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every story has two sides.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Like A Chain of Flowers 

 

Solas walked along the silent woods, fingers trailing against the rough bark of the trees. It was nearing dusk, for which he was grateful. Under the cover of night he would be less likely to be seen, even though it was unlikely that anyone would venture this deep into the woods in general. The Inquisition camp was several miles to the south, so the odds of him running into someone from there were thin as well. 

 

It was for the best, for everyone involved, if he was not seen. 

 

Solas came to the place he’d been searching for. It was ordinary, one tree among many, but he knew it well. Amaryllis had shown him once, during a trip in the Fade. This was where Albizia had been laid to rest. 

 

After over thirty years, Solas had returned to his lover. 

 

Sitting down, Solas caressed the thin bark of the still new tree, young and vibrant just like she had been. “Oh, Albizia,” Solas sighed, feeling the heavy weight of guilt and sorrow build upon his heart, “I’m so sorry.” 

 

Leaving her had been.... torment. He’d known that upon meeting her he could not remain; that whatever flight of fancy he had with her was a trivial thing. He’d been asleep for so long, and upon his awakening, he’d found the world...different. Appalling. He’d been horrified by all he saw and had set about to right the wrongs that had heralded in this strange, almost colorless world. Then he’d met Albizia in his travels. She’d been wandering away from her clan and upon their meeting she brightened his entire world into one of color and vibrancy. 

 

He’d fallen in love, as easily as so many had fallen for him in his youth. Besotted by a young elf who wore the markings of Dirthamen. Her hair was golden, with shimmerings of red when the sunlight touched her just right. Her eyes were the brightest green, lovely and mischievous and full of emotion. Full of longing. Full of desire. 

 

For him, of all people. 

 

She knew not who he was, at first. They slipped away together, the outcast of her clan and the mysterious apostate, often and eagerly, to explore ancient ruins and hike amongst the quiet allure of the world around them. And in those moments he forgot about the heavy burden that sat on his shoulders, bending his posture and straining his heart. 

 

He warred with himself, when they lay together at night under the stars. Knew he had to go, but wanted nothing more than to stay. 

 

Then she figured it out.“You’re the Dread Wolf.” A simple statement, not accusatory, not full of lust as women of ancient times might have approached him, longing for power and sex. She merely told him what she knew, waited patiently for him to respond. And Solas confessed. He did not tell her everything, but he did acknowledge the truth she had discovered, and when she smiled at him, teasing and  _ knowing _ , he felt himself fall deeper in love with her. 

 

Her easy acceptance, her curiosity but respect for his privacy, her nonchalance of the whole thing caused something in Solas’ control to break and he pounced. They’d been intimate before but taking her- having her as a man with one less secret made it all the more profound. When she came, she shouted his name- his  _ other _ name, and hearing her cry out to the Dread Wolf as she arched her back and found release beneath him had been one of the most precious and perfect moments of his long existence. 

 

He knew he had to leave. 

 

And now, decades later that passed in the blink of an eye, he sat before her grave, wondering where time had gone, and how many more mistakes he would make before he finally got things right. 

 

“I should have come back,” he sighed to the tree, head hanging low in shame. “I should have looked. Just  _ once _ . I would have seen….our daughter. I didn’t even know….I never knew. I stayed away so I would not be weak, and now I know that I have deprived you….my….child…. I never knew her. I am a fool.” He sobbed at that, tears from a lifetime of pain and regret slipping through the cracks of a facade long worn and weary. “You already knew that, I suppose.” 

 

Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic, he composed himself as best he could. “I failed you. And our child. But...Our grandchildren. My love….you are a wonder, to have instilled so much wisdom, kindness, curiosity into them. They are  _ you _ , my love. You walk the earth still, in the shape of a beautiful woman who bears my mark and a beautiful young girl who carries my magic. I am in awe of them. They are...more...I have never known such pride, such delight, in knowing they are of my flesh. My magic. Vhenan, you have given me the greatest gift; I only wish I could have given you the same.” 

 

The sun gave way for the light of the moon, and in the darkness Solas reclined, lying flat on his back and looking up at the night sky as he had done with his beloved so many years ago. In the cover of night, at the foot of the tree where his love had been left, Solas wept, his failures settling him over like a blanket that brought no warmth, only emptiness and a bitter chill. 

 

\-------------------

 

_ “I bet it was  _ marvelous!” _ Solas chuckled at Albizia’s claim. They were walking together, hands linked tightly between them, through the ruins of his old fortress. She turned, her hand slipping out of his. “Do not laugh at me so, Dread Wolf,” she demanded playfully, “I am trying to pay you a compliment!”  _

 

_ “And it is a dear one, I assure you,” Solas said, his own tone light and cheery. Hearing her refer to him by name, the name he was so familiar with after so long, was a pleasure he had not known in ages. He watched lovingly as Albizia traversed the Fade with practiced ease, admiring the old and broken ruins of Skyhold. She walked as if she knew the place well, as if she were a queen returning to a memory never forgotten. Following her, Solas caught her hand once more, holding it securely in his as he allowed her to lead him through the ruins, examining everything with her insatiable curiosity.  _

 

_ It was not the only part of her that was insatiable.  _

 

_ She led him to a room off the main hall, a tall, round room with bare stone walls that spiraled up into one of the towers that housed potions and tomes of ancient spells. “This room is my favorite,” Albizia decided upon entrance, tugging Solas with her to the center. The room was empty, save for broken glass and a worn settee near the staircase that led to the upper levels.  _

 

_ “Oh?” He said, watching her as she craned  neck back to look up. Her long, thin neck stretched, and there, on her right just under her jawline, was the purplish mark he’d given her that morning upon their waking. He smirked, fingers itching to trace it once more, perhaps add its twin on the other side. But then Albizia lowered her gaze, grinning almost as if she  _ knew _ what he was thinking. “I’ll see you at the top.”  _

 

_ Then she broke away, ran to the stairs and took them two at a time, laughing as she challenged him to a losing battle. Laughing himself, Solas merely vanished, reappearing at the top where shelves were lined with tomes, some old, some worn past the point of use. Albizia reached the top, panting, hands on her knees as she laughed. “Who am I to compete with a god?” She asked, standing up to brush past Solas to pull a tome from the shelf.  _

 

_ Marching up to her, Solas pressed his body against her, trapping her between the shelf and his touch. “If you’d wanted to become breathless,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against her golden hair, the color of which reminded him of his glory days of old, when he’d draped himself in the very color. He found he prefered the silk of her hair than the velvet and wool from before. “I could have assisted.”  _

 

_ “Naughty pup,” Albizia teased, turning so that she now faced her love.  _

 

_ Solas growled. “Hardly the latter.”  _

 

_ “But definitely the former,” his love giggled, “Fine then. Naughty old man.”  _

 

_ “I see no complaints from you,” Solas said, hooking one arm around her waist, pulling her to him. Taking his other hand, he grabbed her thigh, hooking her leg around his hips and pressing them close together.  _

 

_ “Oh, I’m not complaining,” she sighed, hands coming between them to play at the ties of his tunic, “Merely making an observation. One made all the more true by the fact that this is yours,” she said, nodding to the library. “Did you read all these books? I can’t imagine the information contained within-hmm!”  _

 

_ He silenced her with his lips, hard and hot and eager. She melted into him instantly as he knew she would. She was an unpredictable woman, and one of her charms was that Solas never knew what she might say or do next. She kept him on his toes, kept him feeling less like the ancient being he was and more like the Fen’Harel he’d once been, though that persona had led to a world of trouble. He was wiser now, more subdued and mature. But even he couldn’t resist the allure of the woman in his arms, the only predictable thing about her how easily she succumbed to his advances.  _

 

_ It was a wondrous notion, to be loved completely as he was.  _

 

_ Pulling them away from the shelf, Solas moved to a nearby table, one of the only pieces of furniture in the room, and draped Albizia over it. She smiled up at him, her green eyes blazing with desire, and Solas crawled over her, kissing a path over her stomach and breasts until their mouths met again in a flurry of heat and longing. As he stripped her of her tunic, Solas thought of what it might have been like had she always been by his side, and as they made love, he imagined himself once more a man in his prime, with his beautiful queen by his side.  _

 

_ \--------------- _

 

Amarantha entered Josie’s office, for once hoping the ambassador wasn’t present. It was with relief and a slight twinge of guilt that she saw the room empty. Moving forward, Amarantha made her way to the war room, hoping to get in and out unnoticed. She’d left the journal there the day before in her anger and she wanted to retrieve it. She’d only read bits and pieces of the book and now she wanted to sit down to fully go through it. Perhaps there was more there she had missed. Perhaps there would be more answers. 

 

She slipped inside, once more grateful that no one was present. On the war table, which had not been touched since she’d stormed out, sat the journal, Solas’ image still lying exposed. Reaching out, Amarantha gently shut the book, then lifted it in her arms. She hugged it to her chest, relishing the thought of having something of her grandmother’s even if it was the source of so much pain. 

 

That thought gave her pause.  _ Why didn’t she tell us either?  _

 

The sound of the door being pushed open made Amarantha whirl around, looking like a child guilty of sneaking a treat when they weren’t supposed to. Holding onto the handle was Amaryllis, who looked just as surprised to see her sister. She stepped back, almost as if she wanted to shut the door and run, but she took a breath and gestured toward the book. 

 

“I was….” 

 

“Yeah, me too.” 

 

They went silent for a long moment, then Amaryllis let go of the door. “You go ahead. I’ll just-” she stepped away, toward the hallway. Amarantha moved after her. “We could-” she began, then paused. “We could read it together? Just so you don’t have to wait.” 

 

Amaryllis considered this for a moment. “Okay.” 

 

Releasing a tense breath, Amaryllis turned to leave the room, Amarantha following her. They reached the main hall and the younger sister turned to head toward their quarters when Amarantha cleared her throat. The younger sibling stopped and turned. Amarantha took a step backwards. “Maybe the gardens?” She suggested. “The room is still…” She made a motion with her hands, indicating the mess on the floor from where she’d overturned her desk. Amaryllis nodded and wordlessly moved past her sister outside. 

 

They made themselves comfortable at the foot of the tree, though they kept space between them. Others moved about them, carrying on with their business, but the world melted away for the sisters as they sat, softly taking turns reading the pages that chronicled the love and loss of their grandmother. 

  
  


**9:33 Dragon**

_ I watch my granddaughters playing in the open wood near the east side of the camp. They are so carefree. Wild. It reminds me of him. They run, wind at their backs and laughter on their tongues and I almost wish I could join them, to be as free and full of joy as they are. I have not felt such joy since those nights under the stars, naked under the gaze of my lover.  _

 

_ Oh how I rage at the thought of him! He has given me so much, but he has taken away even more. We could have been happy together; we could have laid the world at our feet as we danced with each other! There is nothing at my feet now save my darling girls. Aster, Creators bless her, is stoic like her father though the resemblance seems to end there. It is in my grandchildren that I see him.  _

 

_ Amarantha is calm, but mischievous, while Amaryllis is as wild as an untamed creature. She will mellow as she grows, but I see my love in her so frequently that sometimes I must fight to keep from calling her by his name. A name I have not spoken aloud since I woke from sleep to find a flower and a note at my side, proclaiming that ‘in another world we might have been together’. It has been over thirty years, and I still do not understand what that means.  _

 

_ I suppose I never will.  _

 

_ \------ _

“She loved him,” Amaryllis sighed wistfully as she lowered the book. “You can feel it.” 

 

Silently, Amarantha took the book from her sister and continued to read. She read for an hour, straining in the faint leftovers of sunlight to finish. Helpfully, Amaryllis produced a fireball in her hand, and held it up so that her sister might see. Amarantha glanced at her sister and smiled faintly in thanks. 

 

She reached the last page, and slid the book closer so that Amaryllis could read along as they took in their grandmother’s final words: 

 

**9:36 Dragon**

_ It has been decades since I have said his name aloud. I cannot say it now. But I must not forget it. I cannot forget the name of the man I have loved.  _

 

_ Fen’harel. Solas.  _

 

_ Oh my beautiful, wild lover. How I long for the day when I may be by your side. Will you greet me in the next world? You told me we could not be together in this one; shall we be in the next? I have the hope I bore as a girl, the hope that drew you to me, that caused you to sheathe your claws into my heart and bind me to you for eternity. I hold no ill will to your departure, only a sadness that I have worn as a cloak, heavy and hot on my shoulders. It burns as my longing for you burns. It burns like a hand in the flame, painful and sharp, but I cannot remove my grip from that which hurts but beckons me.  _

 

_ Oh, Fen’harel, to lose the image of your face would be the death of me. It is all I have left of you. I see it in Amarantha and Amaryllis; they carry your spirit. I wish they could have known you. I wish you could have known your daughter. I am filled with sorrow that you never knew her. Never knew your beautiful heirs. You would be so proud!  _

 

_ You are nothing but pride. It is your life force and-  _

 

_ No. I hold no ill will. Only sorrow. Only regret for what could have been.  _

 

_ But you are the one who hunts alone, and your pack had no place for me. Perhaps it will one day. Perhaps one day you will find what you seek; perhaps one day you will find me. Perhaps one day you will no longer hunt alone, but will find the family you unwittingly created, and together you shall bring about a greatness unlike the world has ever known.  _

 

_ I look at our granddaughters now and I see nothing but greatness. They are so young. Our eldest has only just gotten her vallaslin. I don’t know what you would make of that. But I’m certain you would have an opinion! You always did.  _

 

_ You would love our girls. All three of them. Our daughter carries your quiet wisdom; she has a spirit of her own. Soft and gentle, fond of the Dalish ways. But despite that you would adore her, as I do. But you would have nothing but awe for the children that came from her.  _

 

_ They cling to each other, as sisters should. They are beautiful, bold, vibrant. They give this greying world color. They will move the very mountains; the world will tremble before them! Soon I will leave them, crumble to the earth where I may find rest. But more will come to take my place, and they shall entwine themselves with others and make a chain- like the chain of flowers wrapped in their hair- but stronger than any iron forged by man. My link in the chain grows weaker.  _

 

_ I will be sorry to go. I will be sorry to miss your return. I am sorry I could not walk with you.  _

 

_ But, in another world, perhaps… _

_ \------------ _

 

It was only when a stray tear hit the page that Amarantha realized she was crying. Sitting back, she wiped hastily, taking a shaking breath as she realized just how moved she had been by her grandmother’s words. Chancing a glance at her sister, Amarantha was not surprised to see her sister’s eyes full of tears as well. 

 

They stared at each other for a long time, neither speaking as they allowed the words to sink in and connect. Finally Amaryllis stood, extinguishing the flame in her hand. She looked at the empty space for a long moment, then sighed once more. 

 

“That was a lot.” 

 

Amarantha remained seated. “Yeah.” 

 

They remained that way for a while, before Amarantha spoke again. “We should probably go inside. I’m surprised no one has come looking for us.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

The elder sister stood and silently they made their way back toward the main hall. Amaryllis stopped in front of the door to the rotunda. “Well…” 

 

“Are you not hungry?” 

 

Amaryllis shook her head. “Not really.” 

 

“Me neither.” 

 

They stood again and after a moment Amarantha turned away. 

 

“Sister?” 

 

She stopped and looked back at Amaryllis. “Are we...okay?” 

 

The elder half-shrugged and half nodded. “Why don’t we get some sleep and talk in the morning?” 

 

That seemed to appease the younger one. “Okay. See you in the morning.” 

 

They retired separately, Amarantha to her rooms and Amaryllis to the rotunda. She lay on the couch and shut her eyes, drifting off to the Fade. She knew her sister would be angry, but she was even more determined for answers. She stood in the warm comfort of the Fade, but did not speak. Instead she waited. 

 

\------------

 

_ Solas watched his granddaughter from the cover of night. She sat on the ground in a meditative position, staring out beyond her, silently willing Solas to come. He could feel her confusion, hurt, desperation for answers radiating off her as if they were their own magic, and something in him yearned to reach out to her. To whisper her name and have her run to him.  _

 

_ Perhaps in time he would be brave enough to do just that. So he remained silent and stood guard over her while she sat quietly, balancing a little fireball in her hand, a small flicker of light in an ocean of darkness.  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't post earlier. I was at a L5R tournament on Saturday and then I was sick all day Sunday. I'm feeling better now. I think it was like a 12 hour bug or something. I may try to post another chapter this evening to make up for the lack of update over the weekend. 
> 
> Disclaimer (just in case!): The last line is from OUAT. No copyright infringement intended.


	39. Rabbit Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rabbit hunt- _After a hand is complete, to reveal cards that would have been dealt later in the hand had it continued. This is usually prohibited in casinos because it slows the game and may reveal information about concealed hands_

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Rabbit Hunt 

 

Despite telling her sister they would talk after a night’s rest, Amarantha found herself unable to sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed, huffing indignantly as she struggled to put her mind to ease and let sleep overtake her. But it would not come, and so she finally sat up with a grunt and stared at the empty space around her. The room was still a bit of a mess; she’d not bothered to clean up the mess of reports and papers from her outburst before and so she stood, lit a few candles and set to work righting the mess she’d made. That took a considerable amount of time and was surprisingly a good way to tire herself out, but even as her body longed for sleep, her mind continued spinning madly. 

 

Finally she decided to visit Cullen. If he were awake, she’d have someone to talk to. If he were asleep. she could crawl into bed with him and hopefully find comfort in his presence. Pulling on her slippers, she wrapped a woolen shawl around her thin shoulders, grabbed a candle, and slipped out of her room. 

 

The main hall was quiet; something it rarely ever was. The stillness and silence gave the large, expansive room an eerie quality, one that made Amarantha quicken her steps as she walked. She recalled her grandmother’s words about this place: she had loved it. Pausing, Amarantha took a moment to consider that she now stood in the place her grandmother had been so fond of. She’d spoke of this place with such wonder and delight, and for a moment Amarantha considered that had it been up to her, they might have never left. 

 

No wonder Solas wanted to bring them here. 

 

Moving on, she paused at the door that offered a direct pathway to Cullen’s quarters. But that meant potentially disturbing Amaryllis, and she wasn’t certain if she was willing to take that risk. The other option was to take the long, winding path outside, where the wind was not kind and the air had a chill almost as cold as things felt between the sisters. 

 

Shrugging, Amarantha figured her sister would be asleep, and decided that she’d rather make the shorter journey. Quietly she opened the door, then just as quietly latched it back into place. Blowing some stray hairs out of her face, she turned and entered the rotunda, a place she had avoided in the few days since the reveal of Solas’ true self. She paused in the center of the room, looking up the tall spire that melted into darkness once it stretched past the weak reach of her candle. Her grandmother had loved this room. Solas had taken it for his own, probably as a penance and reminder of their time together. Now Amaryllis occupied it, wanting to be close to the man who had trained her, and now, no doubt, her grandmother.

 

Shuffling her feet, Amarantha glanced around at the unfinished paintings that lined the walls of the rotunda. There was a pang of sorrow at seeing the scaffolding neatly placed to the side, all Solas’ brushes and tools arranged in an orderly fashion, quite possibly to remain unused in the future.The rage she had felt- still felt- seemed to dwindle at the sight of the dark and abandoned room. Now there was only sadness, and a wish that things could have been different. 

 

A light caught Amarantha’s attention, and she turned to see Amaryllis sitting up on the couch, fireball in hand once more. “Sister?” 

 

Feeling embarrassed at having been caught, Amarantha glanced down at the floor, curling her toes then rocking on her heels. “I...couldn’t sleep.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

She pointed to the door that led toward the battlements, “I was just-” 

 

“You don’t have to go,” Amaryllis remarked quietly. “Unless you just want to.” 

 

Fidgeting for a long moment, Amarantha eventually settled on dropping to the floor unceremoniously, placing the candle in front of her. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologized softly, staring at the flame with far too much focus. 

 

“You didn’t,” Amaryllis said, “I’ve been awake for a bit.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

They went silent again, before finally Amarantha sighed. “Since we can’t sleep, do you just want to...talk?” 

 

From the couch, she could see her sister shrug. “I don’t want to fight anymore.” 

 

“Me neither.” 

 

Amaryllis scratched her head, then slid off the couch and scooted toward her sister, carefully balancing the flame in her hand. “Should we just start over?” The younger one asked. 

 

Amarantha nodded. “Probably for the best,” she said. “Why don’t you go first?” 

 

The girl nodded. “Okay,” she said, then blew out a long breath. “I don’t understand why you’re mad at Solas for not telling us the truth. Grandmamae didn’t tell us either and you don’t seem mad at her.” 

 

So she’d caught onto that notion as well, Amarantha thought. She wasn’t surprised. She was more discouraged that she hadn’t made the connection sooner. “I’m angry about a lot of things, Rilly.” 

 

“So he didn’t tell us the truth. And he accidently gave that orb to Corypheus. He felt bad about it and he helped us do all the things we did to defeat him. Is it so unforgivable to make a mistake?” 

 

Amarantha cradled her head in her hand, elbow resting on her knee. She took a long, slow breath, then addressed her sister. “You have to understand,” she said slowly, “Solas was your teacher. He taught you magic. He was a mentor for you. And he was my friend. I followed his counsel on matters that affect the  _ world _ . I trusted that he told me all he knew about the situation: had he not kept his identity a secret, had he not kept the fact that he knew  _ exactly _ what the orb was, we might have been able to do more. Act sooner. Stop-” she cut herself off, choking back a sob, “Stop more people from dying.” 

 

“Solas didn’t kill our clan.” 

 

Amarantha jerked her head up at that. Her eyes narrowed on instinct, but she stopped herself from lashing out as she had before. Instead she slowly inhaled and exhaled, then spoke. “To me, he may as well have been responsible,” she remarked, holding her hand up when her sister tried to speak. “I know you don’t agree, but it’s how I feel. And I can’t change that just because you don’t believe it.” 

 

“Then why don’t you blame Cullen for it?” Amaryllis asked. Amarantha cringed at that. 

 

“Why on earth would I blame Cullen?!” She paused, horrified. “Do- do  _ you?” _

 

Amaryllis shrugged. “I don’t. But saying that our clan dying is because Solas gave the orb away is almost as unfair as it would be to say Cullen killed our clan because he didn’t get soldiers there fast enough. It happened because of  _ Corypheus _ .”

 

Amarantha glowered. “Cullen has nothing to do with this. He tried to  _ help _ . We got the message too late.” 

 

Again, Amaryllis shrugged. “I’m just saying. It’s not fair to blame Solas for something he didn’t actually do.” 

 

Amarantha sighed, “Fine. We don't agree on that front. That's...fine. But what about the fact that he  _ left _ Grandmamae. For whatever this….goal of his is. I still don’t know. But he  _ left _ . And one of two things happened after: he either didn’t ever look for her again, or he  _ did _ and decided that having a woman who loved him and a daughter who had never met him wasn’t  _ good enough _ . And then, he meets us. His granddaughters. And even then, after learning that he missed out on Grandmamae, on mother, he  _ still _ leaves. Again. Whatever he wants to do, it’s clearly more important to him than his family.” 

 

Amaryllis looked down, and the fireball extinguished, leaving them only in the faint glow of the candle. There was a sniff, then a tiny, broken voice. “I don’t understand why we aren’t enough.” 

 

Moved by her sister’s soft cry, Amarantha calmed and slid closer to wrap herself around the young girl and held her tightly in her arms. “I don’t either,” she admitted. “And I'm sorry he's hurt you.” 

 

Amaryllis shivered, then sighed. “I looked for him. In the Fade. After you told me not to.” 

 

“If that was meant to shock me, you failed.” 

 

Amaryllis giggled despite herself. “I called for him. I sat quietly and waited. He won’t come.” 

 

“He’s the Dread Wolf,” Amarantha whispered against her sister’s cheek. “We know the stories. He’s wild. He can’t be trusted.” 

 

“Grandmamae trusted him.” 

 

“And look what that got her.” 

 

Amaryllis huffed and curled into her sister. After a moment she whimpered, “I don’t want to lose you too.”

 

Amarantha pulled away, holding her sister by the shoulders. “What do you mean?” 

 

“I mean,” Amaryllis sniffed, “That you’re angry, and you want me to be angry, but I’m not and I’m afraid that you’re going to push me away because I’m not as mad as you.” 

 

She was pulled back into her sister’s arms in an instant. “ _ Never _ !” She cried, “Never, never. I will  _ never _ abandon you. You’re entitled to how you feel, Rilly. So am I.  We- I- just have to understand that we don’t feel the same. I….everyone’s right. We’re so alike. I suppose I just assumed you’d feel the same and when you didn’t…” 

 

“I don’t want to be mad until I talk to him,” Amaryllis whispered, “Please don’t forbid me from talking to him. I know what he’s done but he’s family and I love him.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Amarantha said, genuinely despondent that she couldn’t agree, “But I can’t call him family. He’s… the Inquisition is my family. Dorian, Cassandra, Varric, Bull. Cullen… I know Solas is our blood; I know Grandmamae loved him, but… I’m sorry. I can no more call him family than I would call Gaspard family.”

 

“I still want him though.” 

 

“I know,” Amarantha sighed, cradling her sister close and resting her chin on the other’s head while her fingers combed through strands of gold. “And if you’re going to look for him anyway… I won’t try to stop you. I shouldn’t have ordered you in the first place.” She swallowed. “I said a lot of things to you I shouldn’t have said.” 

 

“We’re both upset,” Amaryllis whispered, “And I guess all sisters have to fight at some point.” 

 

Unable to help herself, Amarantha chuckled. “Yes, I suppose they do.” 

 

“I’m going to search until I find him,” Amaryllis declared softly, “I don’t care how long it takes. I just want to talk to him.” 

 

“Then I won’t stop you. But please,” she stressed, “Be careful.” 

 

“I will,” she paused and then whispered, “Ir abalas.” 

 

Amaranths shook her head. “There is nothing to forgive. I need to apologize to you. For not telling you he left sooner. For reacting the way I did. For yelling at you-” Amarantha paused and let out a shaky sigh, “I've never yelled at you before.” 

 

“It's okay.” 

 

“It's not. But thank you.” 

 

“Well, I forgive you then.” 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

Amaryllis smiled, then yawned. It was clear she was tired and, so Amarantha sat back. 

 

“Shall I let you get back to sleep?” 

 

Amaryllis nodded. “I guess I am tired.” 

 

“Then I’ll leave you be.” She and stood but Amaryllis reached out fast as lightning and grabbed her sister’s hand. 

 

“I’d rather stay with you.”

 

“Then let’s go back to my room,” Amarantha said, tugging her sister to her feet. “It’s cold in here.” 

 

They retreated to the Inquisitor’s quarters, but they did not sleep. They lay in bed together, talking quietly of their grandmother, pondering over some of the passages that they’d read earlier that day and wondering just what had happened between the two of them that caused Solas to choose….whatever it was over his family. 

 

When the sun rose a few hours later, Amarantha rose with it, motioning silently to her sister to light the hearth. The girl did it from the bed, tossing a flame across the room onto the logs which burst into flame and coated the room in light and warmth. 

 

“Show off.” 

 

Amaryllis giggled, then curled back into the covers. “What are you doing?” She asked as she watched Amaryllis undo her braid and comb out the strands. 

 

“Early morning meeting,” she said, “Everyone is making plans beyond the Inquisition and we have to make sure things don’t fall into chaos. That and the new Divine will be selected soon, and Cassandra, Vivienne, and Leliana are candidates.” 

 

“The Divine was the lady that helped us in the Fade?” Amaryllis asked as she curled her arms around her sister’s pillow. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“She seemed nice. I think Leliana would be a good Divine. She’s nice too.” 

 

Amarantha laughed. “Oh? And Cassandra isn’t?” 

 

There was a beat of silence, then Amaryllis said, “I don’t want Cassandra to go away. That would make Varric sad.” 

 

Too many people were leaving as it was. Amarantha understood the reluctance her sister expressed to see another one go. “It would make a lot of people sad.” 

 

Once she was finished dressing, Amarantha waved to her sister and trudged down the stairs. She was exhausted, but pleased. Things were still a little tender from her brief fallout with her sister, but they were mending, even as they disagreed, and Amarantha was willing to sacrifice a night’s rest in order to not be so at odds with her true family. 

 

She entered the war room, not surprised to find she was the first one there. Josie was nowhere to be seen, and the others were probably taking care of some other business before wandering down for their meeting. Eventually they all arrived, Cullen last of all, looking just as exhausted as Amarantha felt. He hid his exhaustion behind a gentle smile and a quick kiss to her cheek, then moved to his usual place at the table and the meeting began. It felt good to focus, even as the world whirled with other worries and problems. For the moment, she could push them away, just as she’d learned to silence the voices of Mythal- which had gone dead silent since Solas’ departure. It concerned her, but it was not something she wanted to worry about at present.

 

There were far too many pressing matters to deal with first. She would worry about herself later. 

  
  


\---------------

 

“I swear to you!” 

 

“You are a dirty liar and I am leaving.” 

 

Bull grabbed Dorian’s arm and tugged gently. The mage was turned away, nose in the air and huffing indignantly, but Bull could tell his lover was only doing it for show. 

 

“Oh sit down,” Varric laughed, “And tell me if you're in or not.” 

 

Dorian threw Varric a crude gesture as he returned to his seat, then nudged Bull with his elbow. “You’re still a dirty liar and I hate you.” 

 

“You like it dirty,” Was Bull’s remark, causing Sera to snort. 

 

“Oh Maker, what did I just walk in on?” Cullen asked with wide eyes as he pulled out a chair for Josephine, who nodded to him with thanks. 

 

“The usual madness that follows us,” Varric replied lightly, pointing with his chin to the cards. “About time that damned meeting of yours ended. I thought we’d be waiting forever.” He paused and then asked, “Where’s Petal?” 

 

Cullen shrugged, his expression holding traces of worry. “She said she’d be along shortly.”  

 

“You’re just impatient,” Cassandra remarked, drawing the conversation back to Varric’s previous complaint. She was seated beside him and playfully nudged him with her leg as she spoke. Varric placed a hand to his chest, leaning away as if he’d been physically struck. 

 

“You wound me, Seeker.” 

 

“I could  _ actually _ wound you,” she deadpanned as she snatched the cards from Varric to shuffle them, “So watch yourself.” 

 

A chorus of ‘oohs’ followed that and Varric stood in the same manner as Dorian, nose in the air. It was less noticeable as his height was significantly less than Dorian’s, but he played up the dramatics just as well as the mage. “Well maybe  _ I _ should leave!” He said before Cassandra grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into his seat. 

 

“Hush, dwarf, and deal the cards.” 

 

Varric saluted, then took the deck from her. “Yes, ma’am.” 

 

Leliana sighed from the corner. “And this is why I rarely play. Hardly any card playing is actually done.” 

 

“I’ll have you know, Nightengale, that there will be  _ plenty _ of card playing tonight,” Varric responded. 

 

“Yes, and plenty of losing for all of you,” Josephine spoke up, hands resting primly on the table, looking smug. 

 

Leliana returned the look. “We’ll see about that, Josie.” 

 

“Are we too late?” 

 

The group turned to look, each one displaying their own look of surprise to see Amarantha and Amaryllis standing together, hand in hand. Everyone cast a glance at the other before finally settling their gaze on Cullen, who looked just as perplexed as the rest of them. 

 

Amarantha smiled, knowing exactly why she’d received this reaction. She lifted her hand, the one holding her sister’s, and said, “We’re okay,” she said, “Or,” she amended, “Working on it, at least.” 

 

Cullen felt an inexplicable amount of relief flood through him at her words. She’d been so upset since their argument, and Cullen had feared that both would be too stubborn to admit they had been wrong in fighting. But it seemed that they had surprised him yet again, and while it was clear that they were still a little uncertain with each other, they were at least in agreement to let things go for the moment, and that was enough for Cullen. 

 

It seemed not much could keep the sisters apart for long. 

 

“Well then take a seat!” Varric said, “I’m just now dealing. Want me to deal in Sprout?” 

 

The girl shook her head as she took a seat beside Cullen. “I don’t know how to play. Or have any money.” 

 

“Neither are a problem,” Amarantha remarked as she took her place next to her sister. “She’ll play with me. That all right?” 

 

No one objected; Amarantha was harmless when it came to cards. She didn’t bet much and was more prone to fold than to risk anything. She was there more for the company than the game itself, at any rate, so winning was of little consequence. 

 

“Okay, so since we got the innocent one here,” Bull remarked, “No one make Curly bet his clothes. She doesn’t need to see that.” 

 

“What!” Amaryllis blinked, then glanced at Cullen, her lips curling into an amused grin, “You  _ didn’t _ !” 

 

Cullen’s cheeks flushed, “Let’s not discuss that, please,” he said, hiding his head behind his cards. 

 

“Hmm….maybe you should leave, sister,” Amarantha said, winking playfully at Amaryllis. “I’m not certain it’s worth playing otherwise.” 

 

“Oh, don’t  _ you _ start,” he groaned. 

 

“Yeah,” Bull agreed, “Besides, you get to see him starkers whenever you want.” 

 

Gloved hands fell to the table, followed by a head thunking against them. “Oh for the love of Andraste!” Cried Cullen. The others laughed and Amarantha reached over to rub his back soothingly. 

 

“Sorry, vhenan.” 

 

Lifting his head, Cullen fanned out his cards once more. “Let’s just play,” he said, “Maybe I’ll manage to win back some  _ dignity _ , if nothing else.” 

 

“Not likely,” a chorus responded before breaking out into laughter. 

 

An hour into playing, Cole joined the fray, the loud ruckus and laughter drawing him in. He was used to being drawn to hurt, but in the time he’d spent with the people he considered friends, he’d learned to appreciate the feeling of joy and found himself wanting to experience it more. There was always hurt to help heal. But joy like this was something special, and he wanted to partake in it. 

 

“I’m not very good at this,” he admitted as he took a seat at the full table. Everyone had squeezed in to make room and despite the absence of elbow room, no one complained, relaxing against each other and trying to sneak peeks at their neighbor’s cards. 

 

“I can help you!” Amaryllis declared, moving to sit next to her friend. The others adjusted to make space for them and the two youngest members of the Inquisition settled in next to each other, and Varric dealt them a hand. 

 

“I’ve been abandoned,” Amarantha remarked, feigning insult as she looked at Cullen. “Do you see this? She abandoned me!” 

 

“I’m  _ helping _ ,” Amaryllis stressed, sticking her tongue out at her sister. “Besides, you’re beyond help.” 

 

The table ‘oohed’ at that remark, and Amarantha glared playfully at her sibling. “I’ll remember that.” 

 

Beside Amaryllis, Cole smiled. “You’re happier,” he whispered to her. The elf nodded. “The hurt is there, but it’s not so loud anymore.” 

 

“It’s easier when you have people around,” she whispered back, nudging the spirit-turned-human with her arm. He returned the gesture, then pointed to the Jack of Hearts. 

 

“I think he’s sad. He needs a friend.” 

 

“Don’t talk to the face cards, kid,” Varric reminded Cole from behind his own hand, “Else you’ll give away what you have.” 

 

“Right,” Cole said, then he pulled out a small coin purse from his pocket and tossed out a silver piece. The game resumed, with Josephine coming out the victor, having managed to outbluff Varric. 

 

They played until it was well past midnight, the game itself being forgotten in favor of stories and fond reminiscing. Things would soon be changing; friends would be departing to help shape the world further, and it would be some time before everyone could gather together like this again. 

 

Sera was already passed out under the table, and Amaryllis was drowsy against Cole’s arm. Eventually she nodded off, even through the loud, bolstering laughter that rang throughout the room. Eventually Cole stood, lifting the small elf into his arms and addressed her sister. “I’ll take her to your room,” he said softly. Amarantha nodded, thanking Cole with a smile. He carried her out of the room and to the Inquisitor’s quarters. He could feel that she wanted to sleep in the rotunda, but being in that room caused pain, and Cole didn’t like seeing her in pain. 

 

So he deposited her on the bed the sisters shared and turned back the covers before tucking her beneath them. She said nothing, merely curled up around herself in an effort to get comfortable, and Cole felt the soft twinge in his fingers that he’d felt a few times before whenever he touched Amaryllis. Curiously, he bent forward, and pressed his lips to her temple. She sighed and rolled over. 

 

Standing back up, Cole touched his fingers to his lips. “Warm, soft. Comforting. I like all those things.” Perplexed, he left the room to rejoin the game, contemplating on asking Varric later about what tingling fingers and fluttering hearts meant. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've been sick and trying to catch up on real life things as a result.


	40. Follow the Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home is not a singular place. It can be many places. All the places where you dropped a piece of your heart.

 

Dorian stirred awake slowly, far too comfortable to truly allow himself to completely leave the world of dreams. He was warm, head cushioned against Bull’s chest- far more comfortable than any pillow- and he snuggled closer to his Qunari lover, hoping to drift back to sleep and pretend today hadn’t come. Beside him, Bull’s chest shook lightly with laughter. Dorian grunted. 

 

“I can’t sleep with you doing that,” he griped, shifting a little harder so as to express his distaste. 

 

“That’s why I’m doing it,” Bull said, voice low and soft in the early morning laziness that they’d both taken advantage of. With no Corypheus to fight, things were slightly less busy for them. Dorian groaned. 

 

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said, “I’m just going to stay here forever and die in this bed.” 

 

“Well, while I like  _ part _ of that plan,” Bull said as he maneuvered himself so that he was sitting up, back against the headboard, “It’s not really an option.” 

 

Dorian shifted so that he was sitting as well, but remained curled against Bull. “Why did I decide to be noble and selfless for once? I should have just kept my mouth shut.” 

 

Bull’s large fingers ran comforting patterns over Dorian’s arm and side. “Because that’s not who you are,” he said, “You’re a much better man than you want people to see.” 

 

And it was true, Dorian thought, somewhat vainly. He  _ was _ a good man; or rather, he hoped to be. He thought of Felix, who had been so kind and noble and brave. He thought of Amarantha who had endured so much but was still determined to make the world a better place. He thought of Bull and the Chargers who were all extremely good men and women, who were open and honest and fought hard to keep the world from falling to chaos. He wanted to be like them. He wanted to be remembered for  _ more _ . He wanted to do something with his life, and inspired as we was by the Inquisition, he knew the time to act was now.

 

“Thank you, Amatus,” Dorian said, then slowly pushed himself away from Bull’s warm and solid embrace to grab for his clothes which lay scattered all throughout the room. “You really can’t toss things into  _ one _ pile, can you?” 

 

“I’m not particularly concerned with where your clothes go, so long as they aren’t on  _ you _ ,” Bull replied, standing as well to search for his pants. Dorian picked them up, waded them into a ball and threw them hard at Bull’s back.

 

“Yes, well, now they’re wrinkled and it’s entirely your fault that I don't look perfect.” 

 

Bull yanked his pants on, then moved to stand in front of Dorian. “How cheesy would it be if I said I already thought you were perfect?” 

 

“Oh, it would be utterly disgusting. So much that I might hurl upon hearing such sickeningly sweet words.” 

 

Bull laughed, then wrapped his arms around Doiran. “Then I won’t say it.” 

 

Dorian allowed himself to rest against Bull, loving the feeling of being safe in someone’s arms. “Good.” 

 

\--------------------

 

Dorian and Bull entered the dungeon, and Dorian couldn’t help but shiver slightly. It was nicer than most dungeons he’d seen, as Amarantha had been firm in her desire not to have even the criminals down here living poorly. She had a soft heart, something Dorian appreciated about her. 

 

The Inquisitor herself was waiting there already, as was Leliana and Cassandra. Next to them was Calpernia, who stood dressed in a simple tunic and trousers. A cap was on her head, to hide her face, and her hair was down, landing at her shoulders in a ball of frizz and curls. Other than the poor choice of attire- which Dorian knew was to keep eyes from following her: she wasn’t extremely well known, but the name  _ Calpernia _ had been whispered throughout Skyhold well after the fall of Haven. Her trial had been public but Amarantha had made it clear that there would be no blood spilled. 

 

“The real enemy was Corypheus. I will not execute someone who has repented and is willing to help right her wrongs.” 

 

It wasn't a popular decision by any means, but Amarantha’s mercy was known throughout Skyhold, and many prisoners were moved by the grace she bestowed, even when death would have been the kinder alternative.  

 

The same could be said for Calpernia, Dorian thought idly as he moved to the center of the room. She was being banished, for lack of a better term. She was tasked with helping Dorian rebuild her land, to work with him in the name of repentance to make Tevinter a future ally. But Tevinter would not look upon her kindly, Dorian knew. It would not look kindly upon him. 

 

And that grieved Dorian not because he  _ wanted _ Tevinter to like him- fitting in had never suited him- but it was more that Tevinter could do so much if it only got its head out of its ass. It could be a wonderful place. Calpernia, Corypheus, Alexius…..they’d all come from his land and they’d all been blinded by the allure of power. Calpernia at least had the decency to realize her path had been wrong before it was too late. 

 

Dorian hoped Amarantha hadn’t made a grave mistake by allowing the woman to live. He could see by the narrow-lidded eyes of the ever watchful Cassandra that she wasn’t so certain of Calpernia’s loyalties either. But Amarantha had made the choice, had spared the woman, and Dorian knew that if the former servant of Corypheus had any sort of sense about her, she would be extremely grateful for the gift that had been bestowed upon her. 

 

“Good afternoon, my fellow countryman,” Dorian greeted with a cheer he didn’t quite feel. Calpernia dipped her head meekly. 

 

“Hello, Ser Pavus.” 

 

_ That  _ was a title Dorian wasn’t used to hearing, but rather than remark upon the absurdity of it, he merely shook her hand, then looked to his friend. “You’re sure about this?” 

 

“Calpernia has confessed everything to Leliana,” Amarantha said simply, “We have no reason to believe she has any intentions of foul play in the future.” 

 

The mage sighed. “I just want to go home,” she said, “I- I am ready to dedicate my life to righting what I have wronged.” 

 

Bull crossed his arms, studied the mage carefully. He saw no sign of deceit. He knew what to look for: he’d been trained for this very thing. And he saw no hint of it, no tells that indicated a false testimony. He found himself impressed. 

 

“If you want, we had Cole observe her too. I can let you read his report,” Amarantha offered. Dorian took the parchment, squinting in the dim light of the dungeon. 

 

“ _ Sad, cold, heavy. Her shoulders hunch under the weight of expectations. ‘Be better, Calpernia!’ ‘Be stronger, Calpernia!’ I’ll show them my strength. I’ll be better. I am better. He will make me better. I have purpose. No. I had purpose. I thought I was right, following him. Red, righteous. He claimed he knew what was best. He wanted to restore Tevinter. I trusted him.  _

 

_ I was nothing but a pawn. I am not strong. I am not better. I was weak. I am weak.  _

 

_ But the elf. Bright, golden. Good. She did not kill me even when I deserved to die. A punishment greater than death. To live, to remember. I have done so much in my weakness. Will I ever be strong?  _

 

_ Hope, on the horizon. Shaped like home. So much to atone for. Myself and my country. I will make my country great and I will be made strong through it.  _

 

_ Redemption. Real, just at my grasp. I live but at such a cost. Maybe this time I will not be weak.  _

 

“Writes as he speaks,” Dorian mused. Behind him, Bull was reading the report as well, and it was the first time he’d truly appreciated the spirit-boy’s ability to read people’s hurt. 

 

“Damn good job, if it’s true,” Bull replied before stepping back and allowing Dorian to hand the parchment over. Leliana took it, tucking it away before gesturing to Calpernia. 

 

“She is ready when you are.” 

 

“Give me an hour to say some farewells, then I’ll be off.” 

 

The spymaster nodded. “As you wish.” 

 

Calpernia was escorted back to her cell to wait, and the others moved outside. The light made them all blink and shield their eyes for a moment, then Dorian turned to Amarantha. “Come with me,” he said, taking her hand without allowing her to respond and dragging her away. Bull followed wordlessly, knowing his presence wouldn’t be minded. 

 

They reached Dorian’s rooms and the mage held the door open as the other two entered. Shutting it behind him, he moved to a box on his now-empty dresser and lifted it, turning to the other two and opening it. Inside were two crystal balls, shining and clear in the light from the sun that shown in past the stained glass windows. 

 

“One is for you,” Dorian said to Amarantha, stretching the ball out. She reached out to take it, cupping it in her hand gently, holding the fragile thing to her chest. 

 

“It’s lovely,” she said. 

 

“Oh, it is that,” Dorian said, taking the other one out of the box and turning on his heel. He opened the door and walked out. Bull and Amarantha glanced at each other, then suddenly, Dorian’s voice echoed through the air, clear as a bell. “Can you hear me, dears?” 

 

Surprise almost made Amarantha drop the crystal, but Bull’s hand moved under hers fast as lightening to keep the crystal from falling. Curiously, Amarantha spoke. “Yes, we can hear you.” 

 

The door swung open and Dorian sauntered back in. “Good,” he said, “I’d hate to think I spent all that money on a faulty product.” 

 

“What is this?” Amarantha asked, lifting the ball to stare at it curiously. 

 

“It’s a sending crystal,” Dorian explained, placing his in the box. “It allows two people to talk to each other across great distances. You merely hold it, speak, and the other person hears you.” 

 

“That’s incredible.” 

 

“Oh, indeed,” Dorian agreed. before glancing at Bull. “I’ll give you yours later.” 

 

The look on Bull’s face was enough to make Dorian want to cry. “You got me one too?” 

 

“Of course!” Dorian said, quickly composing himself. “I know you’re escorting me to the border, but after that who knows how long it’ll be before-” he choked, unable to contain himself and broke off, pressing a hand to his mouth. “Oh, Maker. I was determined not to do this.” 

 

He snapped his eyes shut in an effort to compose himself again, but found himself instead wrapped tightly in an embrace, sandwiched between Amarantha and Bull. At length Bull let go, and Dorian turned to wind his arms around his Inquisitor, holding her tightly to him. “You, my dear, are the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he whispered, “Thank you for inspiring me to do something more.” 

 

“Thank you for being my friend,” she whispered back, and he could hear the sorrow in her own voice. “Creators, I’m going to miss you.” 

 

“And I you.” 

 

Dorian pulled away and wiped his eyes. “All right. I’m good. I’m fine,” he said. “Enough emotions. Now,” he said, reverting himself back into his normal, lighthearted self, “I ordered more of these. You’re going to amass a collection, I’m afraid. Dagna has the rest with her, but I wanted to give you ours before I left. There will be one for you to share with whoever becomes Divine, as well as Varric, Cassandra, and anyone else. The crystals only connect to one other, I’m afraid, so unfortunately for every person you want to contact, you’ll have to have a separate crystal.” He winked, “For now.” 

 

Once again, Amarantha cradled it to her chest. “This is wonderful, Dorian. I’ll take excellent care of it.” 

 

“And so you should,” he said, “Bloody thing was expensive.” He smirked. “Do share it with your sister, too. I need to stay abreast of everything going on in my dear little mage’s world.” 

 

“I promise.” 

 

“Good.” Dorian said, then sighed. “I suppose I should make my other farewells.” 

 

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, “And meet you at the gate when you’re ready.” 

 

Dorian nodded and turned to leave, stopping when he didn’t hear Bull’s footsteps behind him. He turned and asked, “Coming?” 

 

Bull snorted, and Dorian rolled his eyes. “Yeah, in a sec,” Bull said seriously. Dorian nodded and exited the room. Turning to face her, Bull let his hands rest on his hips and smiled. 

 

“You know,” he said, “If you’d have told me when I joined that I’d have been reluctant to leave here when it was all said and done, I wouldn’t have believed you. But what do you know, you’ve gone and made this place a home.” 

 

“It’s the only home some of us have,” Amarantha said softly, “And you’re welcome back as often as you can spare the time.” 

 

“Oh, I’ll be back,” Bull said. “Bartender’s too good to stay gone for too long.” He chuckled, and despite herself, so did Amarantha. Bull sobered after a few minutes, letting his hands fall to his side. “But seriously,” he said, “Thanks, Boss. A lot of shit’s happened, but I think we all came out better for it because of you.” 

 

Amarantha sniffed, “Please don’t,” she said, “I don’t think I can hear this.” 

 

“Yeah, but you deserve to hear it,” Bull shrugged. “You’re a hell of a leader. And a hell of a friend. We all think so. And I can’t speak for Dorian, but I’ll be back. There’s plenty of shit to take care of around here. And you pay well.” 

 

They shared a laugh. “I’ll save the best jobs for you.” 

 

“Damn right.” He said, “And hey, I’m only gonna be gone a couple months. You’ll have plenty to keep your mind off of how much you miss me.” 

 

“Well, I can’t miss you if you don’t go.” 

 

“Oh!” Bull said, hand to his heart, “What a nasty blow!” 

 

Amarantha giggled at that, then Bull reached forward and pulled her into a tight hug. “You’re the best, Boss,” he said, “Never let anyone tell you any different.” 

 

“Thank you, Bull.” 

 

\---------------------------

  
  


Dorian made his rounds, keeping the goodbye’s as brief as he could to keep from having the same reaction he’d had with Amarantha. Finally, everyone had been bid farewell except Cullen and Amaryllis, who were apparently together in his office. Taking a deep breath, Dorian made his way up to the Commander’s office. Outside the door, he could hear Amaryllis cackling while Cullen grumbled. Opening the door, he entered to a scene of chaos, as Cullen was tossing reports left and right, Amaryllis perched on his desk looking amused. 

 

“Dorian!” She hopped off the desk and rushed to him. The mage swept her up in his arms and held her close. 

 

“Leaving?” Cullen asked, stopping his frantic search to approach the Vint. Dorian nodded, squeezing Amaryllis tighter when she whimpered. 

 

“Oh, now,” he said, “I’ll be back soon. And your sister has something that I think will help ease the pain of my absence. You’ll have to make her show you later.” 

 

Amaryllis nodded, but stayed wrapped in Dorian’s arms, refusing to let go. “What on earth are you doing, is the real question,” Dorian asked. 

 

Cullen groaned. “We’re getting ready to leave for Val Royeaux for the announcement of the new Divine,” he said, “And I’ve misplaced some reports and in all the chaos of getting ready I cannot for the life of my find them. 

 

Reaching out, Dorian laid a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “Can I give you one word of advice?” 

 

Cullen nodded. 

 

“Relax.” 

 

Cullen rolled his eyes. 

 

“I mean it,” Dorian said, “I can safely say that a few misplaced papers aren’t the end of the world, so don’t fret over it, and pay attention to me instead!” 

 

“Yes, well, I’m going to have two very upset girls to tend to in your absence,” Cullen said, “I suppose the reports can wait after all.” 

 

“Indeed they can,” he said as he put Amaryllis down, but still held her to him in an one-armed hug. “And I mean this in the most non-threatening way possible, but, take care of them for me.” 

 

“Of course,” Cullen said. “You have nothing to worry about on that front.” 

 

Dorian smiled. “Good.” He then knelt down, hugged and kissed Amaryllis on the cheek, then stood and shook Cullen’s hand. “Well, hate to help save the world and run, but I must be off.” Amaryllis gripped his hand in hers and followed him out of the office toward the gate. They passed through the rotunda, and Dorian squeezed her hand. 

 

“Solas will be back,” he said softly, “The man’s a fool otherwise, to willingly stay away.” 

 

“Thanks, Dorian.” 

 

The two made their way down to the gates where a few people were waiting for one last farewell. Amarantha stood next to Calpernia who was holding the reigns of one horse, while Bull held the reigns of the other two. Varric, Leliana, and Cassandra were there as well, and so was Cole, who rocked back and forth on his feet. 

 

“How can goodbyes be happy and sad?” He asked. Amarantha took his hand and smiled sadly. 

 

“Because even though he’s leaving, we’re happy because we know we’ll see him again.” 

 

“Like enjoying the night sky because you know that soon the sun will rise.” 

 

The comparison was fitting, Amarantha thought. “Yes,” she said, waving to her sister as the duo approached. “Something like that.” 

 

Dorian gave Amaryllis one last, long hug, then did the same to Amarantha. “Keep all these cretins in line,” he said, “I have faith that you’ll be able to handle it.” 

 

“Of course,” Amarantha said, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Dorian’s cheek. “See you soon.” 

 

“Sooner than you think.” 

 

He then turned, shook hands with the others, then retrieved his horse from Bull. He got himself situated, looked back and smiled. “Try not to miss me too much.” 

 

With that, he turned and rode out of Skyhold, Bull and Calpernia behind him. 

 

\---------------------

 

They made it an hour before Dorian felt the sting of loss hit him. He was slightly ahead of the other two, for which he was grateful, and he did his best to hide his sobs as he rode on, knowing that he was doing the right thing by returning, but wishing desperately that his home wasn’t so far away. 

 

Bull’s horse trotted up beside his. “Hey, Kadan,” he whispered, “You good?” 

 

Dorian nodded, keeping his head down to stare at the saddle. “I will be.” 

 

“It is not so easy, leaving your home,” Calpernia commented as she quickened her own horse to meet up with them. She’d discarded the hat not long after Skyhold had vanished from their sight, her bushy hair was now tied in a messy bun atop her head. 

 

“Tevinter is my home,” Dorian said automatically. Calpernia breathed out her nose. 

 

“I’m sure it is,” she said, unconvinced, “But home is not a singular place, I do not think. It can be many places. All the places where you dropped a piece of your heart.” 

 

“And where have you dropped your heart?” Dorian asked, turning to glance at her skeptically. 

 

“I left my heart in Tevinter,” she replied sadly, “I only hope it still beats upon my return.” 

 

“I’m sure it will,” Dorian said, “Us ‘Vints are rather hardy folk.” 

 

Calpernia smiled sadly. “Indeed we are.” 

 

Later that evening they made camp. They’d packed two tents, one for the men to share and one for Calpernia to allow for privacy. Whether the woman knew of their relationship was uncertain, but neither Bull nor Dorian could bring themselves to care. They crawled into the tent at sundown and lay next to each other, eyes meeting in a long silence that neither felt eager to break. 

 

Finally, Dorian noticed Bull was beginning to doze, so he took the opportunity to speak: “You have a piece, you know.” 

 

“Hmm?” Bull asked, blinking his eye open to regard Dorian in the dim light of the candle Dorian had lit, magically preserved to not go out nor tip and burn the campsite down. 

 

“My heart. I’d wager you have the largest piece, but I thought you might want to know.” 

 

Bull smiled sleepily and pulled Dorian closer to him. “Yeah. You’ve got a piece of mine, too.” 

 

That brought Dorian some comfort, and he fell asleep as content as he’d awoken, knowing that no distance between himself and Bull, or himself and Skyhold, would ever be too great. He’d simply have to follow the pieces of his heart, and he’d find his way home.  

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Bull won't be separated for too long. Promise. They have a very happy ending coming their way and I will tell you now that I _sobbed_ when I wrote part of their epilogue. Good tears, of course.


	41. Considerations (Val Royeaux, Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inner Circle arrive in Val Royeaux to begin the search for the new Divine.

Chapter Forty-One: Considerations (Val Royeaux, Part One) 

 

The emptiness of Dorian’s absence wouldn’t be explicitly felt for some time, for which Amarantha was grateful. Not a day after he’d left with Bull and Calpernia, she and her group had left for Val Royeaux. With Corypheus defeated, there was no longer a viable excuse for the candidates to remain in Skyhold. Amarantha had been invited as well for the discussions, her opinion having more weight now that she’d proven herself and the Inquisition by defeating Corypheus. 

 

With her were Leliana, Cassandra, Varric, Amaryllis, and Cullen. The latter two had come at Amarantha’s reluctance to be gone for the month without them. Varric had come at seemingly his own volition, though it was no secret to the others that he’d come at Cassandra’s request. 

 

Cassandra fidgeted in her seat the entire way to Val Royeaux, and after about an hour of her twiddling her thumbs and tapping her fingers against her leg, Varric took her hand in his and squeezed as he placed it on his lap. Cassandra glowered at him and attempted once to pull away, but the motion was half hearted and she quickly relented to keeping her hand in his. 

 

The corner of her mouth twitched up despite her outward protest, and she felt herself relax. 

 

To pass the time, Varric began telling stories, filling up the silence of the carriage. He talked about his plans for his new book, working title:  _ This Shit is Weird _ . Amarantha and Amaryllis had laughed themselves silly over the idea, while Cullen shook his head in amusement. Cassandra, on the other hand, rolled her eyes in disgust and told Varric that she wanted no part in such a ridiculously titled tale. 

 

“Too late. Already got your story planned out.” 

 

“Then unplan it.” 

 

“Not how I do things, Seeker.” 

 

He was goading her, determined to take her mind off the next few weeks, and so she let him. She grumbled and fussed and they bickered the rest of the way, much to the amusement of the two sisters. By the time they arrived at Val Royeaux, she’d almost completely forgotten why she’d been so uneasy before. She squeezed his hand before he got out of the carriage, offering him a rare, soft smile and whispering, “Thank you.” 

 

He merely winked at her, then stepped out of the carriage. 

 

Val Royeaux was bustling. As the hub of all that was fashionable in both clothing and politics, there were people everywhere, clamoring for a glimpse of the Inquisition and its party. Josephine, who had elected to stay behind to manage Skyhold, had selected several tastefully made robes for the sisters to wear, distinctly elven in design and brilliant in their simplicity. Women whispered to each other behind fans and masks as the party moved forward, all eyes on Amarantha and Amaryllis. The two walked side by side, Cullen to the Inquisitor’s left. Varric walked a little behind him, and the candidates for Divine were another step behind, finishing up the small party. 

 

The group marched toward the Grand Cathedral, the home of the Chantry and the Sunburst Throne, where one of the elite of the Inquisition might take her seat. Cassandra’s hands were clasped together in what many would see as a display of modesty, but in truth she was squeezing her hands together so tightly that her knuckles were white under her armor. Leliana looked at ease, however, perfectly confident and relaxed. She did not know what the results would be: she’d purposely discouraged her agents from reporting anything to her on the matter, wanting instead to hear the decision  _ with _ Cassandra and Vivienne, who had left quickly to try and make her case for the position. 

 

They were met by Mother Giselle who had left some weeks before to make arrangements as well as a Grand Cleric whose features were as worn and weathered as Giselle’s. She held a friendly look upon her features however, and she smiled brightly when the group arrived, all of them bowing in respect to the two women. Giselle stepped forward, voice raising slightly to be heard over the bustle and exclamations of the people who were all clamoring to get a view of the Inquisitor. 

 

“Welcome, friends,” she bid them, hands folded at her chest. “Allow me to introduce Grand Cleric Demetra. She will be one of several presiding over the election.” 

 

“It is an honor, Your Grace,” Amarantha said smoothly, quietly pleased that she’d remembered the proper title. Even after so much time spent among humans, there was still so much that was foreign to her. 

 

“I am the one who is honored,” Demetra said, reaching out to take Amarantha’s hands in her own. “You have done wonders, Inquisitor. We cannot thank you enough for what your Inquisition has done.” 

 

“It would not have been possible without those you see here, and many more,” Amarantha replied humbly; but it was the truth. She would have surely failed had she not had the aid of those with her. The world may act as if it owed her for its salvation, but she owed the Inquisition. 

 

“Such a sweet girl,” Demetra smiled, then looked past her to the Leliana and Cassandra. “And you two,” she said, “I can hold nothing against you for remaining where you were to help. But we have a moment of peace, and we must use it to our advantage. Come. I will have someone show you to your rooms, where you may refresh yourselves before we hold the first meeting.” 

 

The women nodded silently, and followed the servant girl that Demetra summoned. The Grand Cleric then turned to Amarantha. “And we wish you to join us as well, Inquisitor. You know them well. Your input will be most beneficial.” 

 

Amarantha resisted the urge to protest. Instead, she merely bowed her head. “Yes, Your Grace.” 

 

Demetra clapped her hands. “Excellent. I shall show you to your rooms.” 

 

She led Cullen, Varric and the sisters down to a guest wing in the Grand Cathedral, where they would be residing during the month-long proceedings. Their rooms were all together, and Demetra left them at their doors, instructing Amarantha to meet them in the throne room in an hour. A few servants dropped their trunks off in the rooms, then left quickly without a word, leaving the four to stand in the hallway, looking at each other, perplexed. 

 

“Well, they’re not wasting any time, are they?” Varric remarked. 

 

Amaryllis moved to her room, directly beside her sister’s and gasped at the size of it. While the others continued to talk, she went inside, taking in the elaborately decorated room, similar but more elaborate than the one at the home they’d stayed in during the Winter Palace. “Wow,” Amaryllis breathed, wishing Cole were here to share in her wonder. 

 

“I have no idea what to say,” she heard her sister remark to the others dejectedly. “I know they would all make excellent Divines, but how do they honestly expect me to  _ choose _ ?” 

 

“You’re gonna have to,” Varric shrugged. “Sucks, doesn’t it?” 

 

“Can’t I just say I’m far too biased to be of any real use?” 

 

“They won’t buy that,” Cullen said, “You’ve worked with them for some time, and you’re the Inquisitor. The Chantry is going to demand your input, so they can either praise or blame you, depending on how things go.” 

 

Amarantha groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Great.” She paused, then asked, “Is there anything else I need to know about the Divine? Leliana and Cassandra have told me about the position but… is there anything about the position that either of you think would be good or bad for either of them?” 

 

“Can the Divine get married?” Amaryllis asked from the doorway, hands on the frame and leaning forward. 

 

Cullen smirked, knowing exactly what she was referring to. “No,” he said, “The Divine is not supposed to have romantic relationships at all.” 

 

“Oh.” Amaryllis’ nose wrinkled. “Choose Leliana or Vivienne then, sister.” 

 

Despite himself, Varric laughed. “Good choice, Sprout.” 

 

Amaryllis beamed at the praise, then looked pointedly at her sister. “You can’t separate people who love each other.” 

 

Throwing her hands up in the air, Amarantha cried, “It’s not my decision! There is an entire counsel that votes!” 

 

“Then convince  _ them _ not to separate people who love each other.” 

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Amarantha said weakly, knowing there would be no use in arguing with her sister. She didn’t want to argue, at any rate. They’d been doing well since their initial fight, though part of that had been due to the fact that they had silently agreed not to talk about Solas, and had also been distracted by Dorian and Bull’s departure, as well as the trip to Val Royeaux. Things were fragile but good, and Amarantha didn’t want to risk another argument, even as she agreed with her sister. 

 

Unfortunately, things weren’t quite as simple as Amaryllis commanded they be. 

 

“Well, I suppose I should get changed and get on with it,” Amarantha sighed. “Pray I survive.” 

 

“Those old ladies  _ are _ more frightening than Corypheus,” Varric agreed, “Try not to get yourself killed.” 

 

“You’re a massive help, Varric,” Amarantha replied dryly. “Thanks.” 

 

He saluted. “It’s what I do.” 

 

\-----------------------

Over the course of the next several days, Amarantha spent most of her time seated in the heavily guarded throne room while she and the council interviewed the five candidates for Divine. The women were called up one at a time to introduce themselves, give a little personal information, and offer a reason why they would be the rightful choice for the Divine. 

 

Leliana spoke with soft ease and sweetness, and it was easy for Amarantha to imagine her already wearing the robe and hat, using that deceptively sweet demeanor that had coaxed her into talking when they’d first met to do the very same to those under her charge. Cassandra had always been brash; had proclaimed to have a hard time with sympathy, but Leliana was proficient at it. Or at least at faking it, though Amarantha didn’t think that, for all the secrets and knowledge the woman held, there was anything false or misleading about her spymaster.  

 

Vivienne had no qualms with expressing her qualifications for the position, but as she listened, Amarantha felt a twinge of unease. She was not a mage, nor had she ever lived in a circle, but she did have magic at her disposal now, and she shuddered to think of her sister going through some of the things she’d heard about from other mages and Templars who had shared their not-so-pleasant experiences. In her heart Amarantha knew all circles were not bad, but she also couldn’t shake Solas’ anti-circle beliefs from her mind. She didn’t want Solas’ opinions to sway her decision, but she knew deep down, that despite her anger and resentment for her former friend, that he was right. 

 

When it was Cassandra’s turn to speak, she did it with the same determination she did everything else, but Amarantha could see the stiffness in her words, the rigidness in her posture. This wasn’t nerves: this was a woman who was doing something because she was  _ supposed _ to be doing it. Amarantha’s eyes narrowed as she watched her friend, hearing a most convincing speech, but not feeling any of its sincerity. 

 

When the meeting was over, the candidates were escorted to their rooms on the other end of the cathedral. They were not to be alone with any of the council out of danger of someone slipping information that might help or hinder a candidate. Amarantha watched carefully, pretending to be engaged in a conversation with Demetra and another Grand Cleric, making note of the direction in which the women were led. She wouldn’t know which room was Cassandra’s exactly, but she had a feeling that wouldn’t be too much of an issue. 

 

After nearly another week of questions and speeches and debates and discussions, Amarantha was ready to pull her hair out. It was maddening, what these women were subjected to, and she was quite ready to simply  _ pick _ so they could all go back to their lives. But she knew that was the wrong attitude to have. Selecting the Divine was no easy choice, and she knew that her final imput would be taken seriously. 

 

To help with that decision, she needed some answers. 

 

It would be nearly impossible to sneak through the palace, with guards at each doorway, meticulously making sure no one tried to tamper with the selection process. Amarantha paced in her room, wondering just what on earth she could do to get to the other side of the palace, when the voices in her mind began to whisper. 

 

_ Walk where you will not be seen. _

 

That gave her pause. Glancing down to her left hand, she studied with with a scrunched brow. 

 

“I walked through the Fade physically,” she said softly, addressing the voices that hummed in her mind, “But there is no other rift.” 

 

_ Make one. _

 

“Just like that?” She whispered to herself, “Make a rift and walk through.” She considered it a moment. “Well, I  _ am _ the Dread Wolf’s granddaughter. I may as well get  _ something _ out of the deal.” 

 

Lifting her hand, she focused with great intensity, splitting open the air before her to create a small rift. Taking a deep breath, she imagined Leliana in her room on the other side of the palace, and reached her arm in and pulled once more, then stepped through. 

 

A moment later she was standing on the other side of the palace. Before she could summon any excitement for the miraculous thing she’d just accomplished, she felt a sharp, cool blade press against her neck. 

 

“Don’t move.” 

 

“Leliana! It's Amarantha!”

 

The blade was released in an instant. “Inquisitor?!” Leliana said in a hushed cry, “How did you-” 

 

Amarantha turned and shrugged, then pointed to her head. “I was told to try. Apparently it worked.” 

 

Leliana sheathed her knife. “I’m impressed. Though you have always shown proficiency when it comes to the mark and its abilities.” 

 

“Unfortunately we all know  _ why  _ that is.” 

 

“Yes,” Leliana agreed, “But I do not think you risked yourself to simply speak about your… family.” 

 

“I certainly did not,” Amarantha said as she waited for Leliana to gesture for her to take a seat. The other woman moved to the chair by the hearth, which was dim and in need of fresh wood. She nodded for Amarantha to join her, and the elf curled up in the opposite chair, staring at the flames. 

 

“I need to ask you one thing,” Amarantha said, “And it will stay between us, but I need to know: do you want to be Divine?” 

 

Leliana was silent for a long moment. She allowed herself to dwell on the question, before finally posing one herself. “Is my desire the only aspect that concerns you?” 

 

“You are all qualified,” Amarantha said simply, “I have no doubt you, Vivienne, or Cassandra would make an excellent Divine. However, I know your qualifications. And I think I know the answer to this question. I would just rather hear it from your lips first.” 

 

“Will you be asking the others?” 

 

“I know the answer to one,” Amarantha said, “And as I said, I think I know what you will say. But-” 

 

“You do not know how Cassandra feels?” 

 

Shaking her head, Amarantha relented. “I will not recommend someone who does not truly wish to be here.” 

 

“You are a good friend,” Leliana said sweetly, “To care about what we want instead of what must be done.” 

 

“The role will be filled regardless,” Amarantha replied smoothly, “I want to make certain that the person who takes that outrageous throne is content.” 

 

“Then I shall reveal that yes, I would be quite content to sit upon the Sunburst Throne,” Leliana answered at length. “It is no small task, to follow in Justina’s footsteps, but I wish to.” 

 

“Thank you.” Amarantha stood. “How many guards are outside?” 

 

“One at each end of the hallway. They make rounds every hour and a half,” Leliana said, “They should be leaving their posts for their rounds in about ten minutes.” She paused and then added, “Cassandra’s room is two down from mine. I would be quick if I were you.” 

 

Amarantha saluted and snuck out of the room. Sure enough, she could see two guards on the ends of the hallway. Their backs were to her, more concerned it seemed over people trying to get  _ to _ the candidates than the candidates slipping out. She slid down the hallway quiet as could be, and when she reached Cassandra’s door, she gently tried the handle, not surprised to find it locked. 

 

Lifting her left hand, she summoned a small spark of magic and struck the handle with it, causing the metal to break off in her other hand with a sharp sound that seemed to echo through the hall. The guard to her right shifted but did not turn and with a sigh Amarantha snuck inside. 

 

“Cassandra,” she whispered, and a moment later a candle was lit and she saw Cassandra standing near the window, dressed in a loose fitting robe, staring at her friend with stunned surprise. 

 

“Inquisitor?” She said in hushed surprise, “What are you doing here?  _ How  _ did you get here?” 

 

“The Fade,” Amarantha said simply. At Cassandra’s stunned look, Amarantha continued, “I walked through. To Leliana who, by the way, nearly slit my throat. So I thought I might use the more conventional approach when entering your room.” 

 

“I see,” Cassandra said slowly, “You walked  _ through  _ the Fade?” 

 

“Similarly to how we did at Adamant,” Amarantha explained further, “Though it took far less time and I didn’t have to fight any demons.” 

 

“Convenient,” Cassandra said dryly as if the fact that the Inquisitor had walked through the Fade with ease was of no concern to her. Perhaps it wasn't; matters of a more practical nature plagued Cassandra’s mind. She hugged one arm around herself and at her friend’s curious look she added, “I cannot sleep.” 

 

“I don’t doubt it,” Amarantha replied, making herself comfortable and sitting on the edge of Cassandra’s bed. “Varric isn’t sleeping much either.” 

 

At the mention of the dwarf’s name, Cassandra’s gaze softened. “I never thought I’d actually  _ miss _ him.” 

 

“He misses you. A lot. If this doesn’t end soon I think he’s going to start writing poetry, and I don’t think any of us want to endure  _ that _ .” 

 

Despite herself, Cassandra laughed. “No, indeed not.” Moving slowly, she joined Amarantha on the bed, hands tucked in her lap. 

 

“I came to ask you a question,” Amarantha said, “And I need you to answer me honestly, Cassandra. It’s very important that you are honest with yourself and with me. You can think about it as long as you need to, but I need to know: Do you want to be Divine?” 

 

Cassandra said nothing. She swallowed thickly, then looked down, then toward the open window at her back. She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, then moved to pace for several minutes while Amarantha watched. After a while, Amarantha caught Cassandra's hand in hers, pulling her back to the bed to sit and stroked her thumb over the Seeker’s knuckles comfortingly. “I will support whatever you decide.”

 

“I appreciate that,” Cassandra said quietly, “But it is not your support I am worried about.” 

 

The elf understood immediately. “Will he support you?” 

 

“He’s made it clear he will.” 

 

“Does he want you to be Divine?” 

 

She shook her head, then whispered, “He claims it does not matter, but I think deep down he would prefer it if I were not.” 

 

“And his opinion matters, but right now I only care about yours. What do you, Cassandra Allegra Portia Fillamora Pentaghast, want?” 

 

“If I were Divine. I could do so much,” she whispered. 

 

“And if you weren’t Divine?” 

 

A pause; and then, “I could do so much more.” 

 

“So, then? Not to pressure, but I refuse to recommend you if this is not something you truly want. I care for you too much to do that.” 

 

Cassandra looked down, then up, then around the room. Then her head turned and she met Amarantha’s eyes in the dim light, and her gaze was certain and resolute. “I do not want to be Divine.”  

 

In response, Amarantha threw her arms around her friend and held her close. Cassandra returned the embrace, resting her cheek in the space between Amarantha’s neck and shoulder, taking comfort in the friendly gesture. She had been so lonely the past week and a half, so afraid that she was on a path she could not walk. 

 

But now, she saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and her life lay before her, free and uncertain, but free nonetheless. 

 

Pulling away, Amarantha smiled. “Obviously I can’t guarantee anything, but I will certainly vouch for someone else other than you.” 

 

“Thank you, Amarantha.” 

 

“Don’t thank me yet. I have to come up with some truly abhorrent remarks upon your character. They will be scathing, unpleasant, and might end up with you going to prison for a couple months.” 

 

The Seeker make a disgusted sound. “You’ve been spending far too much time with Varric.” 

 

“Someone has to keep the poor man company,” she said, “Until you’re free from this mess.” 

 

“Indeed,” Cassandra said with a sigh. “Perhaps soon it will be over.” 

 

“And then we can go home.” 

 

“You call it home often,” Cassandra mused aloud, “I find myself thinking of it as home too.” 

 

“No matter its history, it’s still close to my heart,” Amarantha said, making a face when Cassandra looked at her quizzically. “Family things,” she said, blowing it off, “A matter for another time. Sleep now, my friend, and take comfort that soon we can leave this place.” 

 

“I cannot wait,” was Cassandra’s dry response. 

 

Nodding in agreement, Amarantha stood. “Want to see me do a trick?” She winked. Cassandra looked intrigued. 

 

“Just don’t leave any demons in your wake.” 

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Good night, Cassandra.” With a sweep of her hand, she created a small rift, and a moment later she was gone.

 

\-------------------

 

“Josephine, it’s horrible,” Amarantha groaned into the sending crystal.“I’d give anything to be back at Skyhold doing paperwork.” 

 

“You say that now, but when you see the mountain I have waiting on your desk, you will change your mind.” 

 

The Inquisitor groaned. “Still. Anything is better than a bunch of old women arguing over their next leader. I thought this might be something like  _ Arlathvhen,  _ but it’s not. They just ask the same questions over and over in slightly varying forms and then argue for hours about whose answer was most satisfactory.” 

 

Josephine sounded amused on the other side of the crystal. “You can never accuse the Chantry of not being thorough.” 

 

“Apparently not.” 

 

A moment later, Amaryllis burst into the room. “Are you using the crystal?” She gasped, excited. 

 

_ “ _ Say ‘hello’ to Josie,” Amarantha said, holding out the crystal. 

 

“Hi, Josie!” Amaryllis said, “Have you seen Cole lately?” 

 

Amarantha scoffed, “Rilly.” 

 

Josie laughed again. “It’s all right. I’m sure it’s been even more dull for her than it’s been for you,” Josie said. “Hold on and I’ll see if I can- oh!” 

 

Amarantha sat up. “Josie?” 

 

There was some rustling, then Josephine was back. “Cole is here,” she said, sounding equally amused and exasperated. “Shall we hand over our crystals and let them talk?” 

 

“I suppose so,” Amarantha said through a laugh. “I’ll speak to you later, Josie.” 

 

“Of course, Inquisitor.” There was some more rustling, then Cole’s voice echoed through the room. 

 

“Can you hear me?” 

 

Amarantha beamed. “Yes! I can!” 

 

“Good. It’s strange, hearing you but not seeing you. Like you're next to me, but invisible.” 

 

“I know! Isn’t it incredible?” 

 

Cole hummed in agreement. “It’s like no matter how far away, we’re still together. And that makes you happy. So I’m happy.” 

 

Rolling her eyes, Amarantha slipped out of her room, catching Cullen just as he was entering his. He stopped and smiled at her, motioning her in with his hand. She entered his room, decorated in the similar gold and red and white that her room was draped in, and reclined on the bed. “My crystal has been stolen,” she said with a grin, “Apparently two teenagers have more pressing things to discuss than the Inquisitor and her ambassador.” 

 

“Well, it’s good to know that Cole and your sister get along,” Cullen remarked as he joined her on the bed, bending over to unlace his boots. “They’ve always been close. I like knowing she has a friend to rely on.” 

 

Amarantha scoffed. “Oh, Cullen, my dear. You can't be that naive.” 

 

He sat back and blinked in confusion. “What?” 

 

“They  _ like _ each other.” 

 

Again, Cullen blinked. “ _ What?” _

 

Amarantha shrugged. “It’s a recent thing, I think. They’re friends, of course, but I think Rilly is getting to the point where she’s….starting to think of him differently. And he’s extremely protective of her. Besides, there aren’t a lot of kids her age around as it is, so I suppose it was bound to happen.” 

 

“Oh,” Cullen remarked, scratching the back of his neck before reclining and wrapping an arm around Amarantha, who curled against him. “Do we approve of that?” 

 

“I think so,” Amarantha said. “I trust her. And I trust Cole. He’s not like other boys. I mean, he’s….older than her….I suppose. Technically? But he’s also very….I don’t know...Innocent?” 

 

“Do you not think she’s too young?” 

 

“She’s nearly fourteen. Aren’t there girls who are betrothed at that age in your world?” 

 

“Sometimes,” Cullen conceded, “It just feels too soon.” 

 

“Tell me about it.” 

 

“Do you think anything will come of it?” Cullen asked. Amarantha shrugged. 

 

“No idea. I’m waiting for her to come to me.” 

 

“Maybe I could talk to her?” Cullen offered. Amarantha shot up and gave him a horrified look. 

 

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” 

 

He straightened up. “What? Why not?” 

 

“Cullen,” she sighed, “No offense but you’re a man.” 

 

“So?” 

 

“So?” Amarantha laughed, “I  _ never _ talked about boys with my Papae. It would have been far too embarrassing!” 

 

“I’m not her father, though,” Cullen pointed out, “Surely that’s different.” 

 

Amarantha stilled, looking at Cullen for a long moment. “Cullen,” she breathed, “Do you not see it?” 

 

He gave her a look that signaled he didn’t. “You may not be her father, but you’ve taken on the role regardless.” 

 

He didn’t respond immediately, thinking back to his interactions with the younger Lavellan sister. He’d not thought much of it, had merely acted out of a desire to care for the girl; to prove to himself that he’d overcome his prejudice of mages and do what a Templar was supposed to do: protect them. He’d grown to love her during that time, loved her dearly and unconditionally, but he’d never once thought that his actions had been  _ fatherly _ . He breathed out, amazed at the revelation. 

 

“I suppose I have.” 

 

“You care for her, fuss over her, worry about her. You gave her her first staff! You let her teach you our language, and she sits in meetings with you, determined to learn from you. You’ve helped fill the gap. You won’t replace Papae, and I know you would never try, but….I think you’ve helped heal her in ways that otherwise she’d still be hurting. She-” Amarantha paused, trying to control her emotions, “She looked to Solas similarly. But….well….” 

 

“You have my word that I will not leave either of you,” Cullen said, reaching out to take Amarantha’s hand in his. “The Maker himself will have to pry my grip from yours.” Despite the darkness underlying the statement, Amarantha smiled and let her forehead rest against his. 

 

A knock on the door interrupted the pair. Calling out to hold a moment, Cullen slipped on his boots once more. “It’s always something,” he grumbled. 

 

“It could be Rilly,” Amarantha replied thoughtfully, though why her sister would knock rather than just barge in was beyond her. She sat on the bed with legs crossed while Cullen opened the door. Before him stood a Chantry sister, who noticed Amarantha sitting on the bed and blinked owlishly. 

 

“Sir,” she said, composing herself, quickly, “There is someone outside demanding to see you,” she said, “She claims it is urgent business regarding your family.” 

 

Amarantha and Cullen exchanged concerned glances, then exited the room, the Sister following behind them, her small feet sliding against the stone floor as she rushed to keep up with the taller couple. They exited the cathedral and reached the gate where the woman was standing, arms crossed and looking slightly unimpressed with the two guards keeping her from entering. When Cullen was close enough, she called out his name is delight, then shoved past the guards and ran toward him. 

 

Despite his surprise, Cullen caught her with ease, exclaiming in surprise,“Mia?!” 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a three part chapter, so the goal is to post part 2 tomorrow and 3 on Sunday.


	42. Resolution (Val Royeaux, Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia makes herself at home with the others; a new Divine is chosen.

Chapter Forty-Two: Resolution (Val Royeaux, Part Two) 

 

“What are you doing here?!”

 

Mia pulled herself away from her brother and slapped her hands to her hips. “I’m here to see you, you silly thing! I received your letter and when I wrote back, I got a reply three days later that you’d departed for Val Royeaux. I thought, ‘Surely I can track my brother down there. He won’t be hard to miss. He’ll be the one person there who isn’t busy writing to his poor family back home.’” 

 

Cullen’s hand rested on the back of his neck. “I’m not very good about that, I suppose.” 

 

Mia laughed heartily, “Indeed not!” She declared, then she noticed Amarantha, who was watching the entire scenario the most amused look on her face. “Oh,” she said, hand lifting to her hair, pulling at the bouncy curls. “I apologize. I was too busy scolding my brother that I was rude to you, Your Worship.” 

 

Amarantha shook her head and reached out to take Mia’s hands in hers. “I have a little sister. I know all about scolding them above anything else.” 

 

That seemed to ease Mia’s nerves and she laughed hesitantly before saying, “So you’re the Inquisitor? Cullen speaks very fondly of you,” she then gave her brother a sidelong glance, “When he bothers to write.” 

 

“I am,” Amarantha said, “But please, call me Amarantha. I’ve heard that title enough the past week I’d be content to never hear it again.” 

 

“Very well, then you must call me Mia,” said Cullen’s sister, smiling brightly, “I must say, you are as lovely as he described you. I hope he’s treating you well.” 

 

Amarantha glanced at Cullen, unable to help the goofy, lovesick smile that spread over her lips. “I’ve never been happier.” 

 

Mia beamed. “I’m pleased to hear it,” she said, “But, enough of that. I think we’re drawing a crowd,” she said, casting a glance over her shoulder to see that people had indeed congregated at the gate to inspect the newest arrival. 

 

“Yes,” Cullen said, snapping into action. “Let’s get you inside. We’ll have to find you a room, assuming the Sisters will allow you to stay-” 

 

“She is an esteemed guest of the Inquisition, and will most certainly have a room,” Amarantha responded simply, “Even if I need to give up mine and share with Rilly.” 

 

“Oh no, I don’t want to be a bother,” Mia said, hands clasped to her chest, “I suppose I wasn’t thinking when I made the trip-” 

 

“No you weren’t,” Cullen said, escorting his sister toward the cathedral entrance, “What were you thinking, traveling alone? Why didn’t Branson come with you?” 

 

“Because Branson is busy taking care of  _ your _ nephew,” Mia remarked with a sniff, “Besides, I can take care of myself.” 

 

Cullen rolled his eyes, but there was nothing but brotherly affection in their depths. “Of course you can.” 

 

There was a little fuss, but Amarantha stood her ground, and eventually Mia’s trunk was brought to the floor where the other Inquisition guests were staying. Once settled, she changed out of her traveling clothing and met the others in the kitchens for a late lunch. 

 

“It’s been awful, not knowing exactly what was going on,” Mia explained as she stirred her stew absently, “We received news of course, but it was never anything quite personal enough,” she turned to Cullen, “I know I get on you about it, but I do understand that you couldn’t write every other day. But still. We were dreadfully worried. I’m so pleased this wretched war is over. There has been far too much death and destruction.” 

 

“Indeed,” Amarantha remarked, thinking of all those that had been lost because of one man’s insane goal. 

 

“But, enough of that,” Mia said, “Tell me more about you, my dear Amarantha. I know you’re Dalish, but I’m afraid I don’t know much else. Is your clan stationed near Skyhold? I imagine it must be awful to be away from them. I know I hate it when my brother is gone for so-” She stopped short, noticing the look of dread and pain flash across Amarantha’s eyes. “Oh,” Mia gasped, “Oh no. I’ve said something wrong, haven’t I?” 

 

“No,” Amarantha gasped, slowing to take a breath. “No, it’s all right. You didn’t know.” 

 

Mia glanced from her to Cullen, who laid his hand over Amarantha’s. “Clan Lavellan was….killed. By agents of Corypheus.” 

 

Her spoon dropped into the bowl, and her hands covered her mouth. “Oh! Oh, dear. I am  _ so  _ sorry.” 

 

“No,” Amarantha sniffed, waving her other hand to dismiss the apology. “It’s alright. It still hurts, of course. But as you said. It was war. And unfortunately this is the legacy war leaves us.” 

 

“You mentioned a sister,” Mia said cautiously, “Is she-” 

 

“She’s here,” Amarantha said, able to smile at that fact. “Probably causing mischief somewhere.” 

 

“If she’s with Varric, then she absolutely is,” Cullen remarked, glad that he was able to force out a small laugh from the elf beside him.

 

Mia smiled, relieved, “That’s good at least,” she said, “To know you have each other.” 

 

“It is,” Amarantha said, “It’s been difficult at times, but I have my family here, and that’s been wonderful.” She cast Cullen a quick glance that did not go unnoticed by Mia. She beamed at her brother and let her spoon rest against the edge of her bowl.

 

“It seems like things are going well for the two of you,” she said, resting her chin on her hands, eyeing them with mischief. “How did this happen, anyway?” 

 

Two pairs of eyes glanced at each other with uncertainty. How  _ had _ it happened? Certainly they knew: they’d been there. But they’d yet to have to explain it to anyone, for all the people that they cared about knowing had practically been witness to the whole awkward debacle. Amarantha made a face that indicated she hardly knew where to begin, and Cullen laughed sheepishly, hand coming up to rest against the back of his neck. 

 

“Well, there was a lot of pining,” he offered, “At least on my part.” 

 

“The pining was mutual,” Amarantha added, “After my clan, I just decided I didn’t want to risk something happening without my getting the chance to tell him how I felt. So I did.” 

 

“And I was a bumbling fool,” Cullen tacked on, making Amarantha laugh. 

 

“Maybe a little.” 

 

Mia’s hands clapped together. “Oh, this is precious!” She exclaimed, “It’s so good to see my little brother so happy. I think the last time he wore that stupid grin was when he picked up a sword for the first time!” 

 

Wrapping his arm around Amarantha’s shoulder, he nodded to his sister. “I am quite happy.” 

 

\----------

 

After lunch Amarantha had to resume her place with the Sisters to continue deliberations. That left Cullen and Mia to their own devices, and the siblings took the opportunity to catch up over a game of chess. 

 

“You’ve been practicing,” Mia remarked after Cullen managed to take one of her pieces in a surprisingly stealthy move. 

 

“I’ve taught Amarantha how to play,” he admitted, “And I have a friend who enjoyed playing on occasion, though he was rather fond of seeing how many ways he could cheat.” 

 

“Well, I hope you put him in his place,” Mia said as she moved a piece. 

 

“Naturally,” Cullen boasted. It was good to see his sister again. After their parent’s deaths, Cullen had put his heart and soul in protecting the world, wanting to keep it safe for his family. It was only after the death of Clan Lavellan and seeing the two sister’s struggle with the truth about Solas that the Commander realized that his heart had been in the right place, but he’d not gone about it the best way. Now he had a chance to spend time with his elder sister, and he was going to appreciate every moment of it. He’d taken his family for granted that they’d be waiting for him for far too long. 

 

“So, about the Inquisitor,” Mia said, curling up in her seat, no longer focused on the board, “What are your intentions, dear brother?” 

 

“Nosiness is unbecoming of you,” Cullen teased. Mia wrinkled her nose. 

 

“It’s high time you settled down, young man,” she said, “And I don’t know her well, but I like this Amarantha. Savior or Herald or Inquisitor or  _ whatever _ , she’s lovely. If you mess this up-” 

 

“What makes you so certain I’m going to mess it up?” 

 

Mia gave him a  _ look _ . “Dear brother.” 

 

Cullen sighed and leaned back from the board. “I want to propose,” Cullen said at length, “And she’s made it quite clear that she will accept my offer.” 

 

Slapping her leg, Mia sat forward, “Then why haven’t you done it yet?!” 

 

“Because,” Cullen said through his teeth, “I haven’t figured out how to ask yet.” 

 

“My dear Amarantha, I love you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Mia said simply. “Honestly Cullen it’s not hard.” 

 

Her brother rolled his eyes. “I’d like to do it the Dalish way,” he said, “Which involves exchanging gifts. And I can’t think of a proper gift.” 

 

Mia allowed herself to think a moment. “Is it any gift? Or does it have to be special?” 

 

“Special,” Cullen said, reaching forward to play with one of the chess pieces. “It usually is something that means something to the both of you. A reminder or-” He paused, looking at the chess piece in his hand. He’d spent quite a bit of time talking to Amarantha over their chess games, and it had been there that he had realized that he loved her. He glanced up to his sister, a smirk curling his lips. “Actually,” he said, “I think I just got an idea.” 

 

“Oh!” Mia leaned forward, “What?” 

 

“No,” Cullen said, replacing the piece and sitting back in his chair, “Not telling.” 

 

“Why not!” Mia pouted. 

 

“Because it’s meant to be a secret, and you’ll ruin it.” 

 

“I will not!” 

 

“You can’t keep a secret to safe your life!” Cullen replied. Mia crossed her arms. 

 

“Oh? When have I ever spilled a secret?” 

 

Cullen began counting off on his fingers: “The time I stole Branson’s favorite tunic because I needed a flag. The time you told Luana that I fancied her. The time I dropped mother’s favorite tea cup and you said you wouldn’t tell. The time I polished father’s sword as a surprise and you told him-” 

 

“Yes, fine, alright,” Mia huffed. “So I’m rubbish. I won’t ruin this one.” 

 

Before Cullen could respond, a voice appeared behind him. “Man, you two fight more than me and the Seeker.” 

 

Cullen turned and threw up a hand to Varric. “Come meet my sister,” he said as he stood. Varric approached the table and held out his hand. 

 

“Varric Tethras,” he said by way of greeting. Mia’s eyes bulged. 

 

“The  _ author _ !” She gasped, then looked sharply to her brother. “You didn’t  _ tell _ me he'd be here!” 

 

“I didn’t know you’d care!” Cullen remarked, hands up in defence. Mia scoffed. 

 

“Of course I care,” she said, before turning back to the dwarf, “I absolutely  _ adore _ your books, Mr. Tethras!” 

 

“That was my father,” Varric said with casual ease, “Call me Varric.” 

 

Mia reached out and shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Varric.” 

 

Glancing at Cullen, Varric smirked. “You didn’t mention you’d be having a family reunion here.” 

 

“I didn’t know,” Cullen said, throwing his sister a playful glare. “She just appeared.” 

 

“Lovely  _ and _ adventurous!” Varric declared, “You have the makings of a heroic character, Miss-” 

 

“Mia,” she said quickly, “Cullen’s older sister.” 

 

“Well it’s nice to meet you Mia,” Varric said with a grin. “How about you two keep bickering so I have something to do other than pace the hallways?” 

 

“Just don’t put it into your book,” Cullen remarked dryly, then paused. “Where is Amaryllis.” 

 

“Spying on the meetings,” Varric said simply. 

 

Cullen blanched, “What?!” 

 

Varric shrugged, “Petal won’t say a word out of a sense of obligation, but I’m  _ dying _ here. So I gave Sprout an assignment.” 

 

“You’re going to get us kicked out of here,” Cullen remarked with a groan. 

 

“Nah,” Varric dismissed his concern as he pulled up a chair, “She’s too good to get caught.” 

 

Another hour and another chess game later, Amaryllis appeared. She smiled at Cullen and then eyed Mia curiously. “Hello,” she said, wondering why Cullen was sitting with another woman. Mia smiled warmly. 

 

“Hello. You must be the master spy Varric’s been talking about.” 

 

Amaryllis blinked, then looked sharply at Varric. “You said that it was a secret.” 

 

“I said your sister didn’t need to know,” Varric responded, “And she’s not here.” 

 

Rolling her eyes, Amaryllis glanced at Cullen expectantly, waiting for him to introduce the other woman. Noticing the slight narrowing of her eyes, Cullen fought back a grin. “Rilly,” he said, “Allow me to introduce you to my sister, Mia.” He gestured to the curly headed woman across from him, and Rilly’s shoulders eased a fraction. 

 

“Hello,” she said politely, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

 

“You as well,” Mia said, before leaning forward. “So, what did you learn?” 

 

Rilly lit up at that. “It’s all very boring,” she said as she made herself comfortable, curled up in the same seat with Cullen, “They kept asking the ladies what they would do in different circumstances. Like another Blight, or another Corypheus-like war. Or if there was a famine. Or an uprising or a civil war or literally  _ everything  _ that could ever possibly happen.” 

 

“And?” Varric prompted. 

 

Amaryllis shrugged. “Miss Cassandra was apparently a bit too idealistic.” Amaryllis rolled her eyes, “That grand cleric lady is a stuffy old fart.” 

 

“Rilly!” Cullen said, a surprised laugh escaping him, “You shouldn’t say that!” 

 

“Well it’s true.” 

 

Mia giggled. “I like her.” 

 

\--------

 

When Amarantha joined them for dinner that evening, she huffed and dropped her head onto the table. “Those women are stuffy old farts,” she groaned, causing the others to burst out laughing. She raised her head up to eye them. “What? It’s true.” 

 

“I’m sure,” Varric said, “So, how was it? You any closer to reaching a decision?” 

 

“If it were up to me we’d have been done ages ago,” Amarantha said, “I swear, asking a Dalish woman to help pick the bloody Divine was a ridiculous idea.” 

 

“The Chantry’s got more where that came from,” Varric said dryly, “May as well bask in the foolishness while you’re here.” 

 

“Ugh,” Amarantha groaned, channeling her inner Cassandra. 

 

After dinner, Amarantha caught Varric as he was heading to his rooms. “I have something for you,” she said, holding out an envelope to the dwarf. He snatched it away instantly, opening it with record speed. 

 

“Andraste’s tits, how did you-” 

 

“I can step through the Fade,” Amarantha said smugly, “And I told her if she wanted to write to you I’d deliver a message.” 

 

Varric stared. “You...stepped. Through the Fade.” 

 

“Perks of being who I am, I suppose,” she shrugged, “It’s actually really easy. The voices told me how to do it.” 

 

Shaking his head, Varric laughed, “You realize how crazy that sounds?” 

 

“If I didn’t, I can always count on you to remind me that this  _ shit is weird _ .” 

 

“It’s a solid title.” 

 

“If you say so. Go read your letter.” 

Varric didn't have to be told twice. 

 

_ My dearest Varric,  _

 

_ How strange to say those words! But they bring comfort, especially now. I am weary of this. I do not wish to be Divine, but I cannot withdraw my candidacy.  _

 

_ Trust me. I asked.  _

 

_ Amarantha is trying to vouch against me without being too obvious but there are a few women who seem determined to see me seated upon the throne. No doubt so I will be in their debt and have to repay them for their kindness.  _

 

_ I hope things are at least entertaining on your end. Perhaps you could produce another chapter of Swords and Shields while you wait?  _

 

_ I must go; I cannot be caught writing to you. But take comfort in that soon it will be over- for good or for ill. Either way I will see you soon. Andraste have mercy.  _

 

_ Ever yours,  _

_ Cassandra  _

 

Varric clutched the letter to his heart, and sighed. Her letter was more comforting than she probably realized, and with a sudden burst of inspiration he moved to his desk to begin writing. He'd have a gift for her when this was over, either to celebrate or comfort. 

  
  


\-------

 

The next day Amarantha lounged with Mia in a drawing room. The Sisters had gone into the chamber, and would not come out until a Divine was chosen. All there was to do now was wait. 

 

They spoke happily together, getting to know one another and telling stories of their childhoods, laughing and bonding. 

 

“He was so shy and bashful,” Mia laughed, “It was so easy to make him blush.”

 

“It still is.” 

 

Mia laughed. “Good. He needs someone to redden his dreadfully pale cheeks.” 

 

“And you need someone to tell stories about me like the sky needs a hole in it.” 

 

Mia glanced over her shoulder to see Cullen standing there and grinned. 

 

“It's what elder sisters do,” she said, looking back to Amarantha for agreement. The elf was only too happy to side with her new friend. 

 

“I'm afraid she's right.” 

 

Cullen rolled his eyes. “I thought I would take a walk. We've been cooped up in here for some time. I would like  _ some _ company,” he said, eyeing Amarantha. “But if another party can behave herself, perhaps I'll invite her too.” 

 

“I'm perfectly capable of behaving,” Mia remarked, arms crossed. Cullen smirked. 

 

“You shouldn't lie, especially in the Chantry.”

 

Mia stuck out her tongue at him, then stood, stretched, and pulled Amarantha up. “Shall we?” 

 

The trio walked together, Mia and Amarantha's arms linked while Cullen walked next to Amarantha. They window shopped briefly, then made their way lazily around, simply enjoying the day. 

 

Mia asked questions about the Inquisition, and Amarantha had to confess she was worried about it’s future. 

 

“We are supposed to strike without mercy when called upon,” she said, remembering something she'd been told when first called upon as Herald, “But then we put away the sword. I think we are needed, but not as the Inquisition. The question is, how to we adapt? We changed the world, but how do we help manage that change?” 

 

“There is no easy answer,” Cullen remarked, “Though I agree that we are still needed in some aspect. Just perhaps not as the Inquisition that we were.” 

 

“Now is the time for recovery,” Amarantha agreed, “Restoration. Help. But where to start?” 

 

As they walked, they passed two small children, who were dirty and whose clothes looked more like rags than actual garments. Mia walked away and pulled out her coin purse. The children looked at her wide-eyed as she gave them each a coin. 

 

“Here, loves.”

 

The children took the coins and thanked her in thick accents, then turned and ran to the nearest vendor to purchase bread and cheese. 

 

Turning, Mia saw Amarantha gaping at her, and she tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. “What?” 

 

“That's it,” Amarantha whispered, moving closer to Mia. “You are a genius!” 

 

Mia blinked. “I’d take credit but I'm not sure what I did that was so revolutionary.”

 

“That's just it!” Amarantha said as Cullen moved to them. “There are going to be countless orphans from this war. And they need somewhere to go. They need to be prepared for the future, not just shoved in the Chantry and told to recite chants!” She paused and glanced at Cullen. “No offense.” 

 

“No, you're right,” Cullen agreed. “A relief effort is needed. We have resources. We have people capable of helping and who still need work. Rather than focus on a war, we focus on healing.”

 

“Skyhold is large,” Amarantha agreed. “There's room. We can house children and families there. Give them work. Purpose.”

 

“It has merit,” Mia agreed. “Better than letting the dears starve on the street.”

 

“Or turn to crime to survive and end up behind bars,” Cullen added. “We can train soldiers. Healers. Mages. Templars.”

 

“Scholars. Historians. Musicians!”

 

“It can be a…” Amarantha paused, then breathed, “A new Haven.” 

 

“New-Haven,” Cullen nodded, grinning brightly. “I think we've found the Inquisition's next purpose.”

 

“I have to talk to Josephine!” Amarantha said, bubbling with excitement. “We can get started immediately!” Turning, she ran back to the Chantry, Cullen and Mia hot on her heels. 

 

Amarantha flung the door open to her sister’s room, which was empty. Amarantha glanced around, sighing in relief when she spotted the crystal on the desk, carefully wrapped in a cloth for protection. Lifting it, Amarantha called out Josie’s name frantically as Cullen and Mia entered. She turned to face them, breathless and smiling. 

 

A moment later, she heard the accented voice of her ambassador. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Josie,” Amarantha said, “I'm here with Cullen and his sister. We have an idea we'd like to run by you…” 

\--------------------------

 

The rest of Amarantha’s day was filled up with discussing the possibility of remodeling Skyhold into New-Haven, a post-war relief effort that would last long term to help families who were victims of the war grow and work and rebuild. 

 

“And for those who are orphaned, maybe we could have rich nobles sponsor a child,” Mia suggested at one point. “We have a child who is proficient in music. A music-lover could sponsor that child's lessons. Maybe provide them with opportunities after they come of age.”

 

“And donations in general will be used to clothe, feed, and school them,” Josephine said, the sound of a quill scratching on parchment in the background. “Not to mention pay for those who teach them.”

 

“We could also use the fortresses,” Cullen said. “For those who wish to become soldiers or Templars. Give them real world experience.”

 

“We could also open up a place for Templars wishing to come off Lyrium to go,” Amarantha suggested, though she did not look at Cullen. “I know some have discussed their desire to stop.” 

 

“All excellent ideas,” Josephine agreed. “But we will need the Chantry’s blessing.” 

 

“And if Cassandra or Leliana are selected, I know they would approve,” Amarantha said. 

 

“And whoever of them is not selected could help,” Cullen added on. “Build up new Seekers or spies.” 

 

“We form the new generation in the model of peace. It's a new foundation to better the world,” said Mia. 

 

Amarantha nodded. “I wonder if Dorian could manage something close to Tevinter?” 

 

“If not,” Josephine said, “He could serve as an ambassador to us. Show that not all of Tevinter is corrupt like Corypheus.”

 

“It would be the beginning to a path to alliance.” 

 

“That might be a  _ little _ too optimistic.” 

 

Eventually Varric and Amaryllis found them and were briefed on the idea. Varric was impressed and Amaryllis excited. “I could teach little mages!” 

 

“Yes,” Cullen laughed. “You could.” 

 

“Well,” Josephine said with a tired but pleased sigh, “I have much to do.” 

 

“Yes. I'll speak to others here. Plant some seeds, as it were,” said Amarantha. 

 

“Yes.” Josephine paused. “This is good, Inquisitor. Very good.” 

 

Later after dinner, Amarantha and Mia sat together watching Cullen and Amaryllis play chess. A few feet over, Varric was seated writing. 

 

Mia gestured to Amaryllis. “I always thought Cullen and I favored each other. But the two of you are practically twins.”

 

“We get that a lot.” 

 

“I'm not surprised. Are you alike in other ways?” 

 

Amarantha smirked. “Probably a little too much alike. But we're certainly our own people. She's a ball of fire-literally, sometimes.

 

Mia blinked. “She mentioned teaching mages. I assume she's one.”

 

Amarantha nodded. 

 

“You must be proud.” 

 

Amarantha nodded. “I am. I love her more than anything. We’ve had some issues, as I suppose all siblings do. But she is the most important person in my life.” 

 

Mia smiled. “She feels the same, I think.” 

 

“Oh?” 

 

Cullen’s sister nodded. “Yes. I can see it in how she looks at you.”

 

“Rather how Cullen looks at you.”

 

Mia smiled. “We are as different as night and day. But I love Cullen with everything in me. I've always felt this need to protect him, even though I know he's more than capable of taking care of himself.” 

 

“I can hear you…” Cullen called over to them, voice dry from his concentration on the board. 

 

The women laughed and stood, moving away to speak more privately. 

 

“I must admit,” Mia said softly, “When Cullen mentioned being in a relationship, I was suspicious.” 

 

“Protective?” Amarantha asked with a knowing smile. 

 

Mia nodded. “I knew you had to be a good person to be the Inquisitor  _ and _ to have gotten my brother’s attention. But I wanted to see for myself.”

 

“I hope I meet with your approval.” 

 

“I think you two suit each other wonderfully. Maker knows I’ve never seen my brother so absolutely head over heels before. We knew this girl back home, and when my brother was little, he had the biggest crush on her. It was precious. She was the butcher’s daughter, and he just…. _ pined _ for her. As a seven year old, it was endearing. But now, to see him like this, with you…. I hope it’s not too forward, but I am very eagerly awaiting the day you tell me we can be sisters.” 

 

_ That  _ was a surprise. Amarantha had thought about the day she would meet Cullen’s family before, but she’d not had any time to think of it in recent weeks. She’d always harbored a fear that they would not like her; that her status as the Inquisitor would mean nothing. But Cullen had assured her, and now Mia, whom she’d only known a few days, was already expressing her earnest approval. It was more than Amarantha could have dared hope for and overwhelmed, she pulled Mia into a tight hug. 

 

“Thank you for that,” she whispered. “I very much want us to be sisters, too.” 

 

\-----------------------

 

Two days later, a decision was reached. 

 

Everyone gathered outside the throne room, waiting for the reveal. Once the Sisters emerged they would announce it to Val Royeaux that the next Divine had been chosen. The group however, waited just outside, eager to get word before the rest of the world. 

 

For his part, Varric was about to go mad. He'd stayed busy enough but he was over waiting. He had a future to plan, and he wanted- _ needed _ \- to know if that future would contain Cassandra. 

 

It would no matter what. But he wanted her in the daylight, hand in hand with her, not giving a shit what anyone else thought. He was however, already resigned to a lifetime of climbing up lattices to reach her rooms late at night. 

 

It’d make a hell of a story, he supposed. 

 

Eventually waiting became too much and Varric began to pace. 

 

“Varric, sit down,” Cullen said after fifteen minutes. “You’re making me dizzy.” 

 

“I can’t sit,” Varric replied, “This shit is nerve-wracking.” At the gasp of a couple lower-ranked Chantry sisters nearby,  he murmured a half-hearted ‘sorry’ and kept pacing. 

 

“I have to admit, it’s rather exciting, being one of the first to know,” Mia remarked as she fiddled with her hands. “Being family to the Commander of the Inquisition certainly has its perks.” 

 

Amaryllis giggled. “Yeah, but it’s also been boring.” 

 

Mia nodded. “I suppose it’s been that too. But it’s been nice to be in Val Royeaux. I’ll hate to return home so soon.” 

 

“You should come to Skyhold,” Rilly said suddenly, “It would be fun!” 

 

Mia glanced at Cullen who grinned toothily at her. “You were the influence for our future plans.” 

 

“Maybe I will then!” Mia said, excited. “It would be wonderful to be a part of something!” 

 

A moment later, the door leading from the small room into the side entrance of the grand throne room opened. Amarantha and the others waited impatiently as the sisters stepped out. Behind them were the candidates. Leliana looked demure, Vivienne angry. Cassandra was expressionless, and Varric’s breath hitched. 

 

The sisters continued walking, the others behind them, but Cassandra stopped in front of the group, turned to Varric, and with a smile that was unlike her, bent down to kiss Varric hard on the lips. 

 

Several Chantry sisters gasped in surprise again, Mia blinked, and Amaryllis cackled in delight. 

 

Cassandra pulled away after a long moment, smiled at Varric and whispered, “Looks like you’re stuck with me, dwarf.” 

 

Unable to do anything else, Varric pulled her down and kissed her again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 will be up tomorrow! Hope you enjoyed!


	43. Open-Endings (Val Royeaux, Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made.

Chapter Forty-Three: Open-Endings (Val Royeaux, Part Three) 

 

Varric lay in the fancy, too-large bed in the Grand Cathedral, Cassandra in his arms. They’d stayed for the announcement of the newly elected Divine, Leliana- now called Divine Victoria- and had promptly excused themselves for their own personal celebration. 

 

Cassandra’s head was nestled against his chest, one hand curled between them, the other idly playing with his chest hair. He turned his head from where he’d been staring at the ceiling, and pressed a kiss to her temple, letting his lips rest against her and enjoying the fact that for once in his life, something had finally gone right. 

 

Maybe  _ right _ wasn’t the most appropriate word to use, but it was close enough. Despite his relief at Cassandra being free from the metaphorical chains that being Divine would have held her to, there was more on the horizon that was still left uncertain. And Varric  _ hated _ uncertainty. He’d written too many tales where lovers faced uncertainty, and he’d never been particularly kind to them. Fate it seemed, was just as cruel an author as he was. 

 

“You’re upset about something,” Cassandra remarked dryly, shifting so that she was laying on Varric’s chest, looking down at him, “What is going on?” 

 

He chuckled, “Can’t pull the wool over your eyes, can I?” 

 

She lightly flicked his nose. “What’s wrong?” 

 

He set aside the teasing and idle remarks and sighed heavily. “Well, now that this whole Divine thing is settled,” he began, “Now we have to figure out what’s next.” 

 

“You’re going to Kirkwall,” Cassandra said simply, “And I would like to help the Inquisition with this New-Haven idea.” 

 

“What about the Seekers?” 

 

He felt her shrug. “I admit I’ve considered trying to rebuild. Perhaps that comes with new, innocent minds, free from the corruption that has taken over the organization.” 

 

“Makes sense,” Varric agreed, “But that's where I'm left wondering: I can't expect you to come hang out in Kirkwall and do what you need to do.” 

 

“The war affected many places. Perhaps I could perform New-Haven business in Kirkwall.” 

 

“You seem entirely too certain about this.” 

 

“And you’re worrying far too much,” she said as she resettled against him. If his arm curled around her a little tighter than before, neither remarked upon it. 

 

“It just seems like we never really...get a moment to breathe,” Varric said, “I care about you, Maker knows I do, but I hardly  _ know _ you as well as I’d like.” 

 

“There’s not much to know about me,” she remarked plainly, “I was a princess, born in Nevarra. I rejected that life. I became a Seeker. I helped form the Inquisition, I like trashy romance serials, I have a tendency to hit things when I’m angry, and I like milk and cinnamon in my tea. I despise tardiness, I love the color purple, I’m rubbish at Wicked Grace, and I find you incredibly infuriating and handsome.” She raised her head long enough to ask, “Is that good enough?” Then dropped it back to his chest. 

 

Despite himself, Varric chuckled. “Well, I knew some of that already. But really? Purple? I’d have pegged you as more of the red type.”

 

“Why?” 

 

Varric shrugged. “Red is passion. You’re passionate. I look at you and I see red. I see the heat that radiates from you when you’ve been in battle, I see the fire in your eyes when you’re upset, or excited, or curious, or confused. I see the red of your lips, lightly stained to allow you to feel feminine even as you reject all typical feminine tropes. I see the love I have for you, and how I burn to be with you always.” 

 

Cassandra tightened her grip around him. “I’ll need you to write that down,” she murmured, then lifted her head to press a tender kiss to his lips. “And you may have convinced me. Red is quite a nice color.” 

 

“I’m very persuasive,” Varric replied, then lifted his hand to brush through Cassandra’s short hair. “So what can I do to get you to fret with me?”

 

“Nothing.” 

 

Varric frowned. “You’re really certain about something, aren’t you?” 

 

He felt Cassandra nod against him. “Leli-Divine Victoria has offered me a position on her council,” Cassandra murmured, “If I were to accept, I would be required to travel, which means I can visit Kirkwall, or if you travel we can find a middle ground. She will support the New-Haven Initiative, and I can be a liaison. It's all murky, but she's made it clear I will be free to pursue certain ventures as I see fit. She knows my heart, and knows that we only have good intentions.” 

 

“Sounds like you've got it figured out,” Varric remarked. 

 

“I think so. Besides. Kirkwall needs someone with some decency.” 

 

Varric felt his heart skip a beat in excitement, knowing what she was implying. “Well, Kirkwall could definitely use your guidance,” Varric remarked coolly. “You may need to stay for several weeks to ensure everything is as it should be.” 

 

“Oh I trust I’ll need to make many visits,” Cassandra smiled, “See? It’s not quite so bleak as you were imagining.” 

 

“Nah,” he agreed, “Still a bit open-ended for my liking though.” 

 

“I like open endings,” Cassandra decided softly. Varric raised a brow. “Oh?” 

 

“Yes,” she said, once more sitting up to hover over him. “It means the story isn’t quite over; there’s always room for a little more. But until then,” she said, leaning down to brush her lips against his, “There will be some respite before Leliana is officially coronated and I will be needed for any official duty. I thought perhaps I might join you on your trip to Kirkwall, just to make certain you don’t get into any mischief on your way.” 

 

“Mischief? Me? Seeker, I would never!” His hands moved to grip her shoulders, then slowly slid downward. “Though now that you mention it, I’m feeling like getting into some mischief right now.” One hand rested at the back of her neck, while the other moved to cup her ass. “What do you say?” 

 

Cassandra slid her leg over him so that she straddled his hips. “Always, Varric.” 

 

\----------------

 

“....What do I call you?” 

 

A laugh slipped from Leliana’s lips, soft and light and lovely. “I am not quite Divine yet, Inquisitor,” she smiled, “You may still call me Leliana. Even afterward, when we are alone. Justinia always liked to hear her real name in small moments of privacy. I expect I shall want the same.” 

 

Amarantha nodded. The council was around a small table in one of the offices in the cathedral. Cassandra stood beside Amarantha, and Cullen stood across from, each member mimicking their usual positions that they held at the war table in Skyhold. The crystal that connected them to Josephine sat in the center so that everyone could hear each other. Amaryllis sat on the table itself, bare feet crossed under her legs while Varric sat in the chair at the desk, fiddling with a feather quill. He tossed Cassandra a sly look followed by a wink, and her cheeks heated even as she glared at him, silently willing him to be professional. Against the wall, Mia stood, invited by Amarantha, to listen in. 

 

“Well, regardless of her name,” Josie said through the crystal, “The Inquisitor and I have a proposition.” 

 

“Very well,” Leliana said smoothly, “Let us begin.” 

 

“Then I would like to propose,” Amarantha began, tossing a glance at Cullen, “An establishment for children orphaned from the war.” 

 

“We have orphanages,” Leliana supplied, though not from disinterest, “How would this be different?” 

 

Having thought this through with Mia a few nights before, Amarantha was prepared, and motioned the other woman up to join her. “It would specialize in the children specifically lost from Inquisition forces,” Mia explained, taking a moment to throw a pleased look at her brother, “They fought and died for the Inquisition, in turn we should try to take care of the families left behind.” 

 

“I have an estimate that Josie was able to get,” Amarantha said, “And we believe that there are at least one thousand children who have lost one or both parents since the Conclave exploded. Rather than send them to an orphanage, we can take them in, assign recovering Templars and mages to work with them as needed. Even, with the Divine’s support, have Mothers or Sisters educate the children. They would work for the Inquisition, as cooks, in the stables, in the farms. That way they gain practical skills as well, which they can then use as adults to make a living, either with us or on their own.” 

 

“What’s more,” Mia supplied, “Is that this shows the world that you are not intent on remaining a military force, but an organization that will work to create and maintain peace. We are not just saving the world and then leaving it to pick up the pieces.” 

 

“Further,” Josephine added, “We already have the Keeps established in Crestwood, The Western Approach, and the Emprise du Lion. The keeps could double as establishments for the orphans. They would have protection from the soldiers, and any who wanted to join would have first hand experience at their fingertips.” 

 

“Skyhold could also be a home,” Amarantha added at the end, “We’ve enough room, now that people are dispersing since the immediate need is no longer there. It would be better than sticking them in one of the circles, while things are being sorted there.” 

 

Cullen looked from Mia to Amarantha, shaking his head in disbelief. “How is it that you two have managed to come up with this in the short time you’ve known each other?” 

 

Mia looped her arm through Amarantha’s, smirking proudly. “We’re simply brilliant, my dear brother.” 

 

“It certainly has merit,” Leliana remarked softly, “It would be good for the Inquisition to be willing to move past a military status into something more approachable. We should remain ready for a future attack, of course, but to restructure to directly help the people now that the Breach is sealed….this could be good.” 

 

“And,” Mia added, “We could try to get nobles to sponsor particularly talented children.” It would allow them to be involved and fund the mission, as well as help them see that the Inquisition is earnest in its desire to not remain a military force ready to strike at a moment’s notice.”  

 

Mia leaned forward. “It’s a sound plan, even if all the details aren’t  _ quite _ figured out. But those poor children need help, and shoving them in a Chantry to recite the Chant of Light isn’t going to be enough.” She paused, hand pressed to her mouth, “No offense meant, Your Holiness.” 

 

Leliana smirked. “You are right,” she said, “That will not do them any good. They need to be active, allowed to feel useful, engaged. Those that  _ want _ to join the Chantry will be welcome to do so, and others may focus on fighting, or their magic, or even scholarship. I will have to speak to the Council,” she said, tossing a look at Cassandra, who grinned and nodded in agreement, “But I intend to offer my full support in this. The Inquisition is necessary, and I will happily see it reshape into a structure than can coexist with the rest of the world, even when it is not needed for protection.” 

 

“I agree,” Cullen said, “And any Templars who choose to go through the Withdrawal may appreciate having children around to teach, if only to take their mind off the pain.” 

 

“Then we have a plan,” Leliana said with a firm nod. “Josie, get started on what you can. Petition nobles who have been heavily aligned with us to see if they would sponsor a child. I will send word out to local Chantries to house children until we can get the Keeps prepared.” 

 

“I’ll send word out to the Captains,” Cullen said, “Let them know what to expect in the coming months.” 

 

“Very good,” Josie said. The sound of frantic scribbling could be dimly heard through the crystal. “I’ll report back in three days.” 

 

With that, the crystal stopped glowing and went silent. The group looked at each other, pleased. “It never ends,” Amarantha said, “But we have something  _ good _ to look forward to now.” 

 

“Indeed,” Cassandra said, “I believe this will be good starting point to rebuilding Thedas. Maker knows those children need hope.” 

 

“And we will make sure that they have it,” Amarantha said, heart racing from the excitement of having a purpose that she had chosen for herself. After all this time, she’d made a move inspired not by absolute necessity, but by a genuine desire to  _ do  _ something. She could see it now: Skyhold full of children, learning, growing, healing. She had her own hurts to mend; everyone here did. But perhaps they could find the strength to heal themselves and the world in the same manner that they’d saved it: together. 

 

\----------------------

 

With the initial idea planted, Amarantha felt much more at ease. She had something to look forward to, something that wasn’t a great battle against a would-be magister, and she couldn’t wait to get back to Skyhold to get started. 

 

The fact that it would drastically take her mind off of so many people leaving was not dwelled upon. 

 

Mia and Amaryllis walked with her outside in one of the gardens near the back of the cathedral, glad for the fresh air and the coolness the evening offered.

 

“I’ve never done anything like that before,” Mia exclaimed, reminding Amarantha of her sister with how bouncy and excited she was. “It was wonderful to be a part of that. Thank you so much, Amarantha.” 

 

“It was my pleasure,” the elf smiled, “I must admit, I was worried about meeting Cullen’s family, but I’ve enjoyed our time together.” 

 

“Oh so have I!” Mia said, taking Amarantha’s arm and squeezing her happily. She then looked at Amaryllis and smiled, “And it’s been wonderful getting to know the two of you. Cullen certainly has excellent taste.” 

 

Unable to help herself, Amarantha flushed. “Thank you.” 

 

Amaryllis laughed. “She still gets all flustered! It’s funny. We should tease her more.” 

 

“No one should tease anyone,” Amarantha remarked to her sister, reaching out and playfully shoving her. “Behave. Or I won’t let you use the crystal to talk to Cole.” 

 

“Oh?” Mia perked up, “There’s a  _ boy _ ?” She said it in a way that spoke exactly what she meant without having to put words to it, causing Amaryllis to flush.

 

“No!” She exclaimed. “Cole’s a friend.” 

 

“Uh huh,” the two older women remarked. “A  _ friend _ .” Mia nudged Amarantha who winked in return. The girl huffed. 

 

“Fine. I’ll stop teasing if you stop.” 

 

“Deal.” 

 

They walked on a little more, making another lap around the garden languidly, talking and laughing and teasing each other the entire time. Once it began getting a little darker, Mia shivered. “I hate to say it,” she remarked, “But it’s getting hard to see.” 

 

“I can fix that!” Amaryllis said proudly, waving her hand and forming a ball of fire. Mia stopped dead in her tracks and gaped. 

 

“That's amazing!” 

 

She slipped her hand out from Amarantha’s and stepped closer to the smaller elf, bending down to inspect the flame. “Maker’s breath,” she exclaimed when she felt the heat of the flame on her face, “It’s real!” She stood and looked to Amarantha. “Can you do that too?!” 

 

The Inquisitor shook her head. “No, I didn’t inherit the ability,” she said, adding cryptically, “Though it does run in our family. All I have is the anchor.” She held her left hand out, palm up, to allow Mia to see the scar that ran along her hand, jagged and rough as if it had been newly acquired and not almost three years old. 

 

Mia reached out slowly, silently waiting for permission, and when Amarantha didn’t pull her hand away, she ran her fingertips over the scar. “I’d heard the stories; Cullen mentioned the anchor too.” She looked up. “Does it-” 

 

“Hurt? No,” Amarantha said, “Or, it used to. It’s been quiet since the Breach was sealed. I haven’t thought much about it.” She inspected her own hand, “I suppose I haven’t had time, really.” 

 

“But it stopped hurting,” Amaryllis said, stepping closer to regard her sister carefully, “That’s good right?” 

 

“I suppose,” the elf shrugged, “I don’t know much about it beyond what-” she broke off, swallowed, then continued, “What our scholars discovered.” 

 

“It’s so strange,” Mia mused aloud, “That  _ this _ is what saved us all. A strange mark on your hand. I suppose it’s rude to ask but was it really given to you by Andraste? The stories vary, as they tend to do, so I’ve never been certain what to believe.” 

 

“I’ve decided to let people believe what makes them comfortable,” Amarantha replied softly, cradling her hand in the other one, “But the truth is that I accidently touched the orb Corypheus was using, and it latched onto me. It was simply an accident.” 

 

“But you wield it so well,” Mia protested, “So they say,” she added with a shrug, “Perhaps the Maker himself didn’t bestow it upon you, but surely it was not mere accident.” She blanched, then added, “Oh, but the elves have their own gods. I didn’t mean to insinuate-” 

 

“It’s all right!” Amarantha laughed as she held her hands up in front of her, “You don’t have to censor yourself around me. I… followed…..the gods. Now I’m not so certain where my heart lies.” Amaryllis looked away at that, but said nothing. 

 

“It must be tough, believing in one thing but being held as the spokeswoman for another,” Mia thought, “I can’t imagine the strain it creates.” 

 

“You’ve no idea,” Amarantha agreed. Then she took Mia’s arm in hers, and nodded toward the path. “But let’s speak of more pleasant things than religion and the mark,” she said, “Surely you have some more embarrassing stories of Cullen as a child!” 

 

Mia beamed. “Oh, you’ve  _ no  _ idea,” she repeated her friend’s words, providing them with enough canonfodder to tease Cullen for years. 

 

\-----------------

 

Inside, Cullen sat in his room which had a view of the garden from his window, fidgeting with his hands absently. He could see all three of his girls walking together, no doubt conspiring against him. Though it shouldn’t, that thought made him smile. This was what family looked like, he thought, and he was pleased that Mia’s impromptu visit had sparked such a quick friendship between his elder sister and his beloved. 

 

Maker knew he needed someone to help keep her mind off Solas and the events of the past few months. 

 

The girls made another lap around the garden path, Amaryllis lighting the way with her small fireball, clearly showing off her ability with pride.  _ Pride. _ That was what  _ solas _ meant, and it wasn’t lost on Cullen the irony of the man bearing that name. Nor the fact that the girls carried it in their blood as well. It was not a vice for them as Cullen suspected it had been for Solas- Fen’Harel- but it was there, linking them to a man, a god, who had inadvertently almost brought the end of the world. 

 

He wondered then, what had changed within him so drastically that the children of a god, one of whom was very much a mage, did not scare him away. Had they met a decade prior, he’d had dismissed them both with little thought, and that sickened him. He’d not been the best man, which had been part of the reason he’d not written home so often. He’d not wanted to explain what he was doing, in what he was involved. Now however, he was older, wiser, and had realized his wrongs. He was still atoning for those sins- perhaps he would for many years to come- but Cullen understood that he had become a better man in time, and he had no doubt that part of that transformation was because of the two blonde elves who were currently bonding with his sister. 

 

He couldn’t believe the Maker had been so kind to him, despite it all. Standing, he let the curtain slip closed and turned away from the window, to the package that sat on the table across the room. He’d commissioned it before leaving for Val Royeaux, and now it was here, and everything he’d thought about for so long suddenly was real. He traced a gloveless finger over the box, wrapped in a lovely golden paper that shimmered in the candlelight. He wasn’t certain when the right time would be, but it would be soon. 

 

He’d been given a second chance: at life, at happiness, and he wasn’t about to let that chance go to waste. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to spread these out over three weeks, so three chapters in one weekend! We're moving right along, but there's still plenty of excitement to come!


	44. Intentional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time he means it.

“I am going to miss you so much.” 

 

Amarantha was holding tightly to Cassandra, who was returning the embrace with just as tight a grip. The two women were standing at the docks of Val Royeaux, where Cassandra and Varric would catch a ship across the Waking Sea directly to Kirkwall. They’d been saying goodbyes for nearly half an hour, and while Varric was eager to return to Kirkwall for the first time in nearly three years, he found a small part of him reluctant to leave as well. 

 

_ It’s not permanent _ , he told himself.  _ We’ll be back before we know it. _

 

Finally Cassandra let go of Amarantha only to latch onto Amaryllis, who was lifted into the air by the Seeker’s strong grip. The smaller elf wrapped her arms around Cassandra’s neck, squeezing tightly, then when she was released she ran straight to Varric and latched onto him. “You need to write that book,” she whispered to him, “That way all of us will always be together.” 

 

That made the author smile. “That’s a good way of looking at it, Sprout,” he said as he squeezed her. “It’s on the top of my to-do list then.” 

 

She nodded firmly. “Good.” 

 

Then she let go of him and went to stand next to Cullen, who wrapped an arm around her shoulder comfortingly. She was still tiny, but she’d grown since she arrived at Skyhold, and while it was only a few inches, Varric was impressed to see that she, like all the others around, now stood over him. 

 

Cassandra lightly hugged Mia, who thanked the Seeker for looking after her brother, then with one last hug to Amarantha, Cassandra turned and offered Varric a shining smile. “I’m ready.” 

 

Varric nodded, stepped forward to hug Amarantha, who knelt down to eye level with him and smiled. “Let me know if she’s mean to you. Like I said, between the two of us, maybe we can take her.” 

 

“You got it, Petal,” Varric laughed, shook hands with Cullen and Mia, then turned and held out his hand to Cassandra. “All right, Seeker,” he said, “Ready for the next chapter in our adventure?” 

 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise, but couldn’t hide her delight when she answered: “Absolutely.” 

 

They boarded the ship, and looked ahead to the horizon. 

 

\------------------

 

A week later found the rest of the group back at Skyhold. Leliana joined them to help find a replacement before she was due back in Val Royeaux for her coronation. Mia was there as well, and had already sent word to her other siblings that she would be joining their brother in Skyhold for the foreseeable future. 

 

Cullen had the feeling he would find two more Rutherford’s at the gates within a month. 

 

Amarantha rushed to Josie’s office once they were properly inside Skyhold, greeting the ambassador with a tight hug. Josephine returned the gesture, giggling with relief as she held her friend to her. “Oh, I have never been so happy to see you,” she exclaimed, taking Amarantha’s hands and leading her to the sofa in her office, “It has been the usual madness, but I must confess I am in desperate need of conversation that has  _ nothing  _ to do with business, even for a moment.” 

 

“I can provide that,” Amarantha said with a smile, squeezing Josie’s hands. “Would you like me to tell you  _ exactly  _ how Cassandra informed Varric that she was not selected as Divine?” 

 

Josie brightened considerably, “Oh please tell me it was scandalous.” 

 

“It caused two Mothers to nearly faint from shock.” 

 

Josie gasped, then urged her friend on, equally scandalized but delighted by what happened in Val Royeaux. 

 

\---------------

 

Later that evening, Amarantha was sitting in her quarters, her grandmother’s journal out in front of her. The idle words spoken by Mia a week before stuck with her, and she couldn’t quite shake the idea that had formed from her mind. Her grandmother didn’t describe Solas in exceptional detail; at least not in terms of his magic. But she re-read varying passages in the hopes that something would stand out, though nothing did. 

 

The anchor was his, attached to her by the orb that Solas had referred to as a  _ foci _ . She turned to another book on the bed, swiped from the library that now stood hauntingly quiet in Dorian’s absence. She found the passage on  _ foci _ and studied it for a bit, before sitting back and staring at her hand. It had been quiet too, ever since the Breach and been sealed for good. The mark hadn’t acted up, hadn’t pained her at all since then. It still worked; she'd used it in Val Royeaux. But what else could it do? 

 

It was certainly a question meant for Solas, and though it frustrated her instantly, she found herself wishing for the first time that Solas was around to ask. She shook that thought quickly from her mind and huffed.  _ I have his blood in my veins. I can figure this out myself.  _

 

She’d never questioned the fact that her sister was a mage and she wasn’t. She’d never questioned the significance of her sister’s ability to pick up on magic so quickly, nor her ability to so easily control the mark, even as it had pained her. Now she found herself wondering if all that was because of her kinship to the Dread Wolf, and if so, why had she not developed mage abilities as well? Her mother didn’t have them, that was certain, or at least that was what she was always told. Aster had never displayed magic, but now Amarantha found herself wondering just what else her family might have hidden from her. 

 

Moving to the center of the room, she decided to summon the power once more. If she really was the bloodline of the Dread Wolf, certainly she would be able to make the mark obey her whims. She sat down, facing the open window to look at the snow-tipped mountains, and shut her eyes. She’d mediated before, though it was not often, and she found herself struggling a little to clear her mind. Her thoughts wandered to Solas more than she would have liked, angry and wishing for his guidance in a swirl of conflicting emotion. 

 

_ Emotion,  _ She thought suddenly.  _ It reacts emotionally _ . She recalled how she’d gotten angry on a few occasions and the mark had responded in kind. She thought with a blush back to the first night she’d spent with Cullen and how the pleasure she’d experienced had accidently ruined the fine chair in a burst of energy. 

 

She closed her eyes even tighter, as if that would help her concentrate, and focused on the anger she felt at Solas. How he’d lied, how her family had been killed by Corypheus. She felt the trembling warmth of rage bubble up in her, and she channeled that feeling forward, stretching out her hand as if to catch it. She felt her arm burn sharply, then she felt a familiar tingle in her hand, and she peeked one eye open to see a ball of green energy floating just above her hand, sparking and making the air around her crackle with electricity. 

 

Beaming with delight, Amarantha slowly moved her hands closer to her face to examine the energy. It wasn’t  _ quite _ like what she’d thrown at fade rifts, but it was similar in feeling. She closed her hand around it, snuffing out the spark, then stared at her hand again, focusing intense emotions once more until another burst of green energy shot down her arm and formed in her hand. She let out a breathless laugh, then focused the ball of energy to travel up her arm. It did after an uncertain moment, swirling up and around her, stopping at her elbow and turning her entire forearm into a glowing beacon of energy. She laughed, feeling very much how she imagined Amaryllis felt when she’d first gained control over her own power, and summoned the energy with shaky precision further along, until at last, she was entirely covered in the energy, a glowing green figure in the middle of her room. She was engulfed in the magic, breathing it in as it tingled on her skin. It didn’t hurt, not like it had before. Instead it felt similar to the sensation felt when she’d been still for too long and pins and needles struck her foot upon standing. 

 

She laughed, feeling giddy at the thought of taking Solas’ orb and channeling its magic for her own particular use, and smirked, even as the tingling sensation grew. She had no idea what else she would  _ do _ with this newfound ability, but that would be decided later. For now she was enjoying the fact that she’d figured something out on her own. What, exactly, she wasn’t sure, but she quickly decided that it didn’t need to have a purpose. This was for her; taking back what had been thrust upon her by the man her grandmother had foolishly trusted. 

 

There was a sound on the stairwell, thick boots against creaking wood, and Amarantha clenched her fists quickly, feeling panic at being seen in such a state. The energy extinguished itself, leaving her feeling breathless and weak, but she turned just in time to see Cullen reaching the landing, and smiled despite the sudden bout of dizziness. Choosing to hide that, she stepped to him with a smile as genuine as she could manage, and threw her arms around him, grateful for his solid form to keep her steady while she allowed herself to lean against him until the dizziness passed. 

 

He seemed pleased by the gesture of affection, and ran a hand over her long hair. “I’m happy to see you too,” he said breathily, allowing her to hold him for a long moment. When the dizziness passed she stepped back slowly, keeping his hands in hers. 

 

“Did you need something?” She asked, noticing now that he seemed a little pale. “Are you alright?” She stepped closer to him, resting a hand on his cheek, checking for a fever. He turned his face toward her hand and kissed her palm. 

 

“I’m wonderful,” he smiled, “And will be more so if you would agree to join me?” 

 

Nodding, Amarantha allowed Cullen to take her arm and lead her out of her quarters. They walked together arm-in-arm together outside. Eventually they made their way to the garden, and Cullen led her to the gazebo. “I thought we might play a game of chess,” he said as he led her to her seat. 

 

Amarantha sat, smiling at the Commander. “Using me as practice before you challenge your sister again?” 

 

Cullen’s shoulders shook in silent laughter. “You might say that,” he said, gesturing to the board, “Shall we?” 

 

Amarantha reached out to move a piece, then stopped and held it up to her face. “This is new,” she remarked. “I’ve never seen this chess set before.” The piece, a pawn, was made of a dark wood, carved into a twisted, beautiful design, distinctly Dalish. The other pieces were of similar design, twisting and curved into beautiful trees and abstract designs. The Queen was by far the most beautiful of all the pieces, the branches of the piece swirling around to form a crown at the top in the shape of a flower. Tracing over the pawn lovingly, she smiled up at Cullen. “Did you do this?” 

 

Cullen shrugged. “I thought the old set might be ready for retirement,” he said, “Besides, I thought you might like this one more. It’s certainly much more interesting to look at than the other one.” 

 

“It is,” she agreed, reaching out to pick up one of Cullen’s pieces, the wood a pale, almost white color. She hummed in delight, reset the pieces, and moved her pawn. “Ready to break in your new set with a horrible loss?” 

 

Laughing, Cullen moved his pawn. “We’ll see about that.” 

 

They played for a long while, each carefully considering each move. Piece after piece was taken on both sides, until finally, Amarantha reached over and placed her queen on a square. “I win,” she beamed, more excited than confident, eyes shining with delight. Cullen nodded, accepting defeat gracefully, then picked up the queen, inspecting it pensively. 

 

“Do you remember the first time we played chess,” he asked. She nodded. “I was so enamored with you. We’d talked before that, but it amazed me just how easy it was to talk to you. How kind you were; how open and caring. It was a simple thing, but it was something that helped carry me through the darkest days.” 

 

He stood then, and with him, Amarantha’s heart leapt in her chest. He took a step, and kneeled in front of her. “It was that day that I understood just how much I cared about you,” he said, “And ever since then I’ve thought about how much I wanted to be with you for the rest of our lives.” He held out his hand, the queen laying in his palm. “I love you, Amarantha. And I know the Dalish custom is to exchange gifts upon betrothal, but I wanted to propose to you….how I’ve always envisioned. So,” he said, gesturing to the chess set, “This is ours, to share, for our engagement, if you will have me, well, that is-” 

 

He was cut off by Amarantha sliding out of her seat to kneel in front of him, arms looping around his neck and her lips crashing onto his. “Yes,” she whispered, “Oh, vhenan,  _ yes! _ ” 

 

He laughed against her lips, “I was going to ask in elven-” he began, but was silenced by her lips again, “It was perfect,” she replied once she released him, eyes full of tears. “You’re perfect.” 

 

Reaching down, she rested her hand over his where the queen lay between them. They smiled at each other, eyes glistening in tearful happiness as they sat under the gazebo. Amarantha laughed giddily, then turned their hands so that Cullen’s was on top, and bent down to kiss his knuckles. “This was much better than the first time,” she murmured. Cullen was unable to keep from laughing. 

 

Scratching the back of his neck with his free hand, he replied, “That’s because this time it was intentional, vhenan.” 

 

There was a sudden rustling in the bushes behind them, and the two looked over, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Squinting, Amarantha rolled her eyes after a moment. “Come out, nosey.” 

 

Amaryllis poked her head out of the bushes, followed by Mia, who looked positively delighted. “So?” She asked, arms crossed, completely ignoring the fact that she was standing in a bush, caught for spying. 

 

“I said yes,” Amarantha said simply, wincing when Amaryllis squealed and hopped out of the bush to run over and practically tackle them in a hug. Mia stepped out a little more gracefully, and reached out to help her future sister-in-law up. 

 

“Thank the Maker,” she said as she hugged the elf. “I thought he’d never ask! So what happens now? Do you announce it?”

 

Amarantha opened her mouth to answer, but paused, and glanced at Cullen. “What do we do?” She asked. Cullen shrugged. “I imagine that’s up to you.” He stood, hauling Amaryllis up with him and holding her tight. He offered her a tender smile. “All that matters to me is that you said yes.” 

 

She returned the loving glance, then was brought back to the present by Mia. “We should talk to Josephine,” she said, then reached over and hugged her brother, bouncing excitedly as she did so, “Oh, my little brother is getting married!” 

 

Cullen stepped closer to Amarantha, lowering Amaryllis to the ground and wrapping his free hand around his future wife’s waist. “Yes, I am,” he whispered, gazing into her warm, loving eyes. “And I can hardly wait.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About time he asked.....
> 
> A little short and sweet chapter that moves things right along. Now we're getting to the fun part: watching Amarantha have to plan a wedding! She's not looking forward to it, let me tell you.


	45. From the Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word spreads of Amarantha and Cullen's engagement.

Chapter Forty-Five: From the Other Side 

 

Later, after Mia and Amaryllis had finally been calmed and convinced that they would be the first to know when the wedding would take place, Cullen and Amarantha entered Josie’s office, where she was sitting with Leliana. The two women looked up, and one look at the other couple sent Josie flying out of her chair with the most undignified squeak. 

 

“You’re engaged,” she remarked excitedly, “Tell me that’s why you both look so pleased!” 

 

The couple glanced at each other, then nodded together. Josie clapped her hands. “Oh wonderful!” She said, “We must prepare immediately!” 

 

At Amarantha’s wide, blank stare, Leliana stepped in. “Josie,” she said softly, “I believe first we should simply congratulate them. There will be time to plan weddings later.” 

 

Josie seemed to collect herself. “Yes, yes, of course,” she said, “Though it will be a rather large affair, the wedding for the Inquisitor and her Commander.” 

 

Cullen blinked. “Must it?” 

 

Josie looked offended that he needed to ask. “She is one of the most important and influential people in Thedas; it would be unheard of for there not to be a grand celebration-” she cut off at Leliana’s look and sighed. “ _ But. _ That will be discussed later. Tell me,” she said, grabbing Amarantha’s hands and leading her over to the desk, “I want to know everything.” 

 

Leliana sidestepped over to Cullen, who was watching with amusement. “She’s happy for you,” Leliana said smoothly, “But leave it to the ambassador to express such happiness by constantly worrying about how this must be turned into a diplomatic affair.” 

 

“It’s all right,” Cullen said, “At least she’s happy.”

 

“Everyone will be,” Leliana said, watching the two women talk. She already knew how the whole thing had played out, and didn’t need to hear it told, sweet as it was to hear Amarantha explain it. “We’re all very happy for you, Cullen. Maker knows after everything, you deserve a chance at happiness.” 

 

“I think we all deserve it,” he replied, “I hope you’re happy.” 

 

Leliana smiled. “I am where the Maker wants me to be. I am carrying on Justinia’s legacy, in my own way. How could I be unhappy?” She rested a hand on his shoulder, then slipped out of the room otherwise unnoticed. 

  
  


\-------------------

 

Once conversation with Josie ended, Cullen and Amarantha moved to her quarters to inform Cassandra and Varric. They had been settled in Kirkwall for a couple days, and had checked in the previous morning.Amarantha picked up the crystal and spoke her friend’s name. 

 

“Oh it is good to hear your voice, my friend.” 

 

Amarantha smiled. “Hello Cassandra.” 

 

There was a beat of silence, then the Seeker spoke. “You sound strange. What has happened.” 

 

Behind her, Cullen snorted. “Straight to the point, as always,” he remarked. 

 

Amarantha waved her hand at him, then bent down so her mouth was closer to the crystal. “Something  _ has _ happened,” she said, “And I regret that you aren’t the absolute first to know, but I got to you as soon as I could.” 

 

“Yes?” Cassandra said, sounding slightly concerned. Amarantha considered playing it up a little longer, but was far too excited to keep up the charade. 

 

“You’re going to need to make a trip to Skyhold soon. There’s going to be a wedding.” 

 

There was a long moment of silence, then the sound of the most distinctively  _ girlish _ squeal. “He finally asked?!” 

 

“Yes!” 

 

“Oh Maker that is wonderful!” Cassandra cried, voice trembling in excitement. “When did this happen? How? What did he say? What did you say? What did he do?” 

 

Laughing, Amarantha started to answer, before she heard a distant knocking, then Varric’s concerned voice. “What on earth happened?” She heard him ask. He must have noticed the crystal in Cassandra’s hand because then she heard him ask, “Is that the ‘Quisitor? What’s up?” 

 

“May I?” Cassandra asked into the crystal. 

 

“Be my guest,” Amarantha said, unable to keep from grinning. 

 

“Cullen proposed!” She said happily to Varric. While Amarantha expected Varric to make some sort of congratulations, instead she heard him curse. 

 

“Damn it, Curly, you cost me fifty gold!” 

 

Cullen blinked, then stepped closer to the crystal. “What did I do?” 

 

“You asked before she did!” He cried into Cassandra’s crystal. “I had money on Petal asking first. Now I owe the Seeker and it’s all your fault!” He paused, then added, “But in all seriousness, congrats you two. I’m happy for you-” 

 

“Hush, Varric!” Cassandra said, “I want to hear how he did it!” 

 

“I was  _ trying  _ to congratulate them,” he responded back, “I’m a gracious loser after all.” 

 

“Yes, but that’s hardly important; I need to know how it happened.” 

 

“They aren’t your personal romance story to gush over,” Varric retorted, “That’s what  _ Swords and Shields  _ is for.” 

 

“I….can let you two go, if I need to,” Amarantha said, trying and failing to keep the amusement out of her tone. “You seem a little….caught up.” 

 

“No!” Cassandra said, “Varric is going to be quiet-” Amarantha was certain the momentary pause was so she could glare at the dwarf, “And you are going to tell me everything.” 

 

“Okay, well-” Amarantha began, telling the story once more. Cullen sat next to her, listening with equal attention. He may have lived it, but it didn’t quite feel real, and perhaps hearing her tell the story again might cement in his mind that he’d finally done something right. 

 

\------------------

 

After Cassandra, Dorian had been called. The mage had been just about to leave for dinner, but had collapsed on his bed instead, drinking up all the details of the engagement. After an hour of talking, laughing, and gossiping, Amarantha had to go, and he’d reluctantly dropped the ball onto the bed beside him, and sighed heavily. 

 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for her. He was. He was elated that she and the Commander had finally gotten the happy ending they deserved. He believed that with all his heart. It was just, in Dorian’s mind, terribly unfair. 

 

_ But this is what I wanted _ , he reminded himself firmly,  _ It’s what I still want. I just wish it wasn’t so terribly lonely.  _ Sighing, he sat up to head to dinner, but found that he no longer had an appetite. Laying back down, he stared at the ceiling of his room, blowing back a stray strand of hair as he thought. After a few minutes, he rolled onto his side, pulled the box from the nightstand where his crystal’s sat, and picked up the center one. 

 

“Knock, knock,” he said. 

 

There was a few moments of silence, then the sound of a deep, gruff voice. “Who’s there?” 

 

“Your kadan.” 

 

“Your kadan, who?” 

 

“Your kadan is terribly depressed and in desperate need of cheering up.” 

 

Bull was silent for a moment. Then, “That was a terrible knock-knock joke.” 

 

Unable to help himself, Dorian chuckled. “Yes, well, I’m proficient at many things, but jokes have never been my speciality.” He flicked a hand at that last word, knowing Bull would have been amused by the gesture. 

 

“Clearly,” Bull deadpanned, “So, are you alright?” 

 

“I am,” Dorian sighed, “Just got some wonderful news from our dear Inquisitor. Pretty boy proposed. There will be a wedding soon, though it’s rather hush-hush at the moment. They don’t want the nobles to get wind of it just yet.” 

 

“Makes sense,” Bull agreed, “‘Sides, Petal isn’t the type to want some huge, lavish wedding.” 

 

“No,” Dorian agreed, “Where did I go wrong with her, I wonder?” 

 

Bull chuckled at that. “So, that’s got you feeling down, huh?” 

 

“I never said-” 

 

“You don’t have to,” Bull said, “I don’t have to see you to know you’re down about it. It’s great news and I’m sure you’re thrilled, but it’s another reminder of what you can’t have.” 

 

“Just cut me to the quick then, I don’t mind,” Dorian replied dryly. 

 

“But I’m right.” 

 

“You are.” 

 

“Is it the marriage thing, or the we’re-separated-because-Tevinter-and-the-Qunari-hate-each-other-thing?” 

 

“Definitely the latter,” Dorian replied, “I know we’ve talked plenty since you left, but I must confess I’ve had moments where I just want to pack a bag and run until I find you, say ‘screw Tevinter’, and we go off and have our own adventure.” 

 

“This was never going to be easy,” Bull said, “But nothing worth having ever is.” 

 

Dorian sighed, and stretched his arms out over his head. “Depressingly true. But,” he shut his eyes, forcing back the tears, “How’s it going on your end?” 

 

“Eh,” Bull said, and Dorian could just imagine his lover shrugging, “You know. Walking. Occasionally killing something. More walking. Not nearly as exciting as what you’re doing.” 

 

“What I’m doing is hardly grand.” 

 

“But it’s  _ good _ ,” Bull stressed, “And I believe in it. And you.” 

 

Dorian blinked. “That...that was surprisingly encouraging.” 

 

He could hear the smugness in Bull’s voice as he replied, “I try.” 

 

“Don’t get smart,” Dorian replied, “It’s not becoming.” 

 

“There’s a joke in there somewhere, I’m sure.” 

 

Huffing out a laugh, Dorian sat up on the bed, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. “How close are you to Skyhold?” 

 

“Should arrive tomorrow. Why?”

 

“Give Petal a hug for me,” Dorian requested, “As surprisingly tolerable as Calpernia has proven to be, it’s not the same as….you know.” 

 

“Well, maybe if they do some big fancy wedding you can come in to represent Tevinter or something,” Bull suggested, “It’ll be something to look forward to in the meantime at least.” 

 

“This is true,” Dorian agreed before falling silent. He sat there for a moment, eyes shutting as he imagined Bull next to him, or behind him, his presence soothing him and Dorian sighed wistfully, wishing that things could be different, that things could be simpler, that he was still selfish and hadn’t returned home. On the other side of the Crystal, Bull chuckled. 

 

“Sound like you’re getting tired.”

 

“I suppose I am,” Dorian agreed, “More drained, really.” 

 

“Well, I’m settled for the night. The boys are outside doing who knows what, but I shouldn’t be needed until morning. Wanna try something?” 

 

“We are not doing anything-” 

 

Bull’s deep chuckle stopped him. “I meant, why don’t we just...fall asleep. Holding the crystals. It’ll be like we’re together. I can hear you breathing and vice versa. We don’t even have to talk. But we’ll still beside each other.” 

 

For half a moment, Dorian considered declining. It wasn’t quite late enough for him to go to bed, and he’d yet to do his nightly ablutions in preparation. But then, he thought, who cared? He was tired, exhausted really, and one night of forgoing his usual routine in favor of falling asleep to the sound of Bull’s breathing was too good an opportunity to pass up. He carefully unlaced his boots with one hand, keeping the crystal gripped in the other one. Bull was adjusting something on the other end; Dorian could hear the rustling and was assured Bull could tell he was doing the same. Once his robes were off he was left in his breeches, which were comfortable enough, so he crawled into bed, and cradled the crystal to his chest. “Well, this isn’t quite the same,” he remarked after a moment, “But don’t be surprised if I make a habit of this.” 

 

“Don’t be surprised if I do the same,” Bull replied, “At least until a better alternative comes along.” 

 

“Good night, Amatus.” 

 

“‘Night, Kadan.” 

  
  


\------------

 

The next day was bright and wonderful, if Amarantha had anything to say on the matter. Newly engaged, she felt giddy at the prospect of creating a new life with Cullen. There was plenty to figure out: where they would sleep, where Amaryllis would sleep, getting the New-Haven project off the ground, and whether to announce the engagement or keep it a secret. Amarantha hadn’t known what to do, and this morning offered no clear perspective. Partially because, with the excitement of such a joyous event, there was also a sorrow that filled her at the thought of her parents, her clan….Solas. 

 

She’d sent a letter to Josie that morning saying she wanted time to herself to catch up on some paperwork, and while that was true, it wasn’t Inquisition business that drove Amarantha to keep to her rooms. Thoughts of her family weighed heavily on her, and she found herself returning to her grandmother’s journal, and the texts she’d written that came from the Well of Sorrows. She’d not paid the voices much mind in the past month or so. She’d been so busy with everything else that listening to whispering voices in her head had been the last thing on her mind. 

 

Now she was paying attention, however, and they were just as loud as they’d always been, taking her focus as invitation to speak, whispering secrets and history to her. Deciding that the best way to handle the situation was to start writing, she grabbed her pen and the most recent empty book she’d picked up and began to scribble as fast as she could. 

 

She wrote for a while, the voices dictating to her their wisdom and memory, and she felt herself wondering what her clan would think of such knowledge. What would the rest of the Dalish think? What would be the best way to present such information? The next gathering wouldn’t be for another five years, and surely she couldn’t wait that long to share with them what she’d learned. Better to do it soon, while her victory was fresh in their minds. Dalish could be forgetful, she thought with bitter amusement. 

 

But that would come in time, too. There were plenty of things to do to keep busy, and she wanted to take some time for herself to enjoy her engagement. She didn’t want a large wedding, just something small; a traditional Dalish handfasting, perhaps, surrounded by only their closest friends. Naturally that wouldn’t be the case, as she  _ was _ the Inquisitor, but it was a pleasant thought. 

 

Could one have  _ two  _ weddings, she wondered. Or was that too lavish and unnecessary? 

 

Shrugging, she returned her attention to the voices, writing down a detailed account of one of the gatherings of old. Suddenly, the light from the sun behind her was covered by shadow, and she heard a familiar voice say softly, “I believe congratulations are in order,  _ da’len _ .” 

 

Jerking out of her seat, Amarantha turned to find herself face to face with Solas. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUNNN! 
> 
> Sorry everyone. I meant to post Tuesday as a birthday treat for all of you but got caught up in some other things and this weekend I was busy binging The Punisher, so I'm once again delayed. But this is a long weekend coming up, so hopefully I can have another chapter or two posted. 
> 
> For my American followers, Happy Thanksgiving!!


	46. A Wolf at Your Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sisters have their first interaction with Solas since learning the truth; Cole gives Amarantha an idea.

Chapter Forty-Six: A Wolf at Your Door 

 

Amarantha stood frozen, body tense as if she’d been doused in freezing cold water. Chills shot through her, fear and anger and confusion at suddenly seeing him before her. He’d been missing for months now. Fingernails dug into the palm of her hand, grounding her as she stared at Solas, who looked regal, poised, wearing a smile that was as deceptive as his entire friendship with her had been. 

 

Gritting her teeth, she snarled, “What are you doing here, Fen’Harel?” 

 

Solas’ smile faded slightly, and he blinked once, eyes trailing from her face down to her hand, over to the desk, then back to her. He kept his own hands behind his back, shoulders squared as he stood in the frame between the room and the balcony, half bathed in shadow. “I thought you might be upset,” he admitted softly, his voice gentle and caressing, as it had been so many times when he’d comforted her, offered her advice and counsel. 

 

A bitter laugh escaped from Amarantha’s lips. She glanced away for a moment. “Upset.” She replied, tone as dull as an old, worn blade. Then she sharpened her words against a stone and lashed out.“ _ Upset?  _ You son of a bitch! You lied to us! To  _ me!” _

 

“I did,” he said simply. There was no real hint of remorse in his voice, merely acknowledgement. Amarantha doubted she would have cared if he  _ had _ been remorseful. 

 

She had purposely  _ not _ thought about such an encounter since learning of Solas’ true identity. She would have driven herself mad with what-if’s, thinking of how she might address him, what she might say. Now she wished she had, so she might have an idea of where to begin. She had no idea. There was so much she wanted to know, but she found herself dumb from anger. She knew if she continued to speak, she would do nothing but throw accusations and insults at the man, and while she believed they were warranted, she also felt a slight twinge of fear at this man: a man whom she did not know at all. 

 

Family certainly meant nothing to him, so she doubted he would show mercy to his granddaughter if she crossed a line. So she merely crossed her arms, hands gripping her biceps and stared. 

 

“I’ve never known you to be speechless,” he remarked wryly, “Contemplative, but never mute.” 

 

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” she replied hotly, “That seems to be a common trait in our  _ family _ ,” the word was spat with such force and venom that Solas physically winced. 

 

“You are angry,” he replied in his same, infuriatingly calm tone, “And you have every right to be.” 

 

“You’re damn right I do.” 

 

“Then which offense would you like me to address first?” 

 

Amarantha stepped backwards, around the desk so that it was between them but making sure to keep from turning her back to him. She lifted the journal then stepped forward and when she was within arm’s distance of Solas she shoved the tome at his chest. Solas’ hands reached up instinctively to catch it, and when he saw what it was she’d pushed into his hands, his eyes dimmed with a sadness that held years of regret and loss in their depths. 

 

“This is-”

 

“My Grandmother’s,” Amarantha replied coolly, taking a step back and re-crossing her arms. “Amaryllis found it after…” She broke off.

 

If Solas heard her, he made no response, instead tracing over the cover of the journal before flipping it open to a random page. Upon seeing the apparently familiar handwriting, he smiled, wistful, reminiscent. “Albizia,” he murmured, shaking his head at something she’d written. “Ma vhenan.” 

 

Amarantha’s breath hitched in her throat at the sound of Solas referring to her grandmother in such a loving way. The anger dimmed, smothered by confusion, by a need to know the truth. She reached out and carefully pulled the journal out of Solas’ hands. He did not stop her, but he frowned deeply, looking up to meet his granddaughter’s eyes. There were tears in them as he spoke, “You look so much like her. Both of you.” 

 

“You knew,” she whispered, accusingly but without any of the sting that she’d once kept the words wrapped in. “That day we met. You took one look at me and you  _ knew _ .” 

 

“I did.” 

 

She rolled her eyes upward in an attempt to stop tears from forming. She’d known that he knew, but hearing him confirm it just made things hurt deeper. “How could you-” 

 

“What? Keep the truth from you?” Solas asked, his own tone growing sharper. “And how would I have explained it? How would I have explained that I was your grandfather without raising suspicion that I was more than I admitted to being? I certainly do not  _ look _ the part.” 

 

“But why would it have been so horrible for  _ me _ to know?” She countered desperately, “You told Grandmamae.” 

 

“She figured it out,” Solas corrected, “Just as you did.” 

 

“Fine then,” Amarantha conceded, “Answer this then:  _ how could you leave her?” _

 

His face went hard. “I have my reasons.” 

 

“You have your secrets.” She spat. 

 

“And they are kept secrets to protect the ones I lo-”

 

Amarantha’s laugh cut him off. “ _ Protect? _ ” She cried, “Your secrets nearly destroyed the world, Solas! They latched  _ your mark _ onto me! Your secrets caused my clan to be murdered! How is that protect-” 

 

Solas was in her face in an instant, his eyes flashing with a raw anger that she’d never seen the usually composed elf express. His hands gripped her arms, not painfully, but he held fast and pulled her close,  hissing, “I have done many things, but I am not responsible for the death of your clan.” 

 

“You handed Corypheus the tools that made it possible,” she hissed back, teeth clacking together as she spoke, “You may as well have!” 

 

“You forget that I lost my family that day as well! A family I scarcely even knew I had!” Solas snapped harshly, before jerking away from her as if shocked by his own outburst. He stared at his hands, his breathing labored. For a long moment he stood silently, composing himself. “I apologize,” he said at last. “I should not speak to you in such a manner.” He lowered his hands to his sides and looked up to meet Amarantha’s stricken gaze. “I am guilty of many things,” he said slowly, the pain in his face a testament to that fact, “But please do not do me the dishonor of accusing me of not caring about our family.” 

 

“I’ve no reason to think otherwise,” she replied, and though the words were deadly, she offered them as gently as she could. “The only constant you’ve displayed is your ability to turn your back on us.” 

 

Solas looked away, ashamed. Ashen. “And it has nearly destroyed me every time I have done it.” 

 

Amarantha took a shuddering breath, feeling heavy and cold and lost. She no longer felt like the Inquisitor, but like a child looking to an elder speaking of things she did not quite comprehend. Did Solas see her as a little girl, young and naive and in need of his guidance? Did he see her as a burden? An accomplishment? She pushed those questions aside and asked instead, nose wrinkling in disgust as her voice shook, “You still gave the orb to Corypheus. That cannot go unanswered.” 

 

“Then I shall answer you.” He moved around Amarantha and took the seat at the desk, leaning forward like an old man who had carried too many burdens in his life to be able to sit up straight. Amarantha moved as well, hopping onto the desk and letting her legs hang over the side. She faced Solas, waiting silently as he gathered his thoughts. 

 

“I awoke from my slumber,” he began. “And I needed the orb. I was informed that Corypheus might be powerful enough to unlock it. I was too weak, you see. So I tricked Corypheus. Told him it would do what he needed; that he could ascend to godhood by using the orb, believing entirely that when he unlocked it, he would be killed in the process. No one save myself had used it before; it was too powerful. He should not have been able to wield it.” 

 

Amarantha blinked. “So you  _ knew _ his plan. The  _ whole _ time.” Her voice was calm, no longer sharp-edged or malicious but soft, weary. 

 

“I did.” 

 

She let out a long breath through her nose and let her head hang, long strands of blonde hair falling over her and shielding her from Solas’ gaze. He continued. 

 

“He didn’t die; obviously.” Solas paused to sigh at that, aware of the pain his mistake had caused. “When I realized what I had done, I knew I had to right my wrongs. But I was still not strong enough. Then the Conclave exploded and….there you were. The anchor,  _ my anchor _ , on your arm. I knew who you were the moment I saw you lying unconscious on that cot.” He laughed, softly, disbelievingly, “Fate sometimes is cruel to us, da’len, and what crueler fate could there have been than revealing I had a family? You looked just like her. And then you opened your eyes…” He cupped her chin in his hand and focused on their matching colors, “And I knew you.” 

 

Amarantha shook her head, pulling out of his grip. “You knew. You knew everything. You kept knowledge- valuable knowledge hidden-” she broke off, her voice trembling as she remembered their conversation after she’d survived Haven. “You even said the people would find a way to blame elves for this. How interesting that you were referring to yourself.” 

 

“I take responsibility for what I have done,” Solas replied, “And I saw that it was set right.” 

 

“Right?” Amarantha scoffed, “It should have never  _ been _ .” 

 

“And yet, had it not, you would never have met your beloved. Those you call your friends.” 

 

Amarantha slid off the desk to stand before Solas. He lifted his head to look at her, and for a moment she felt strange, standing before the Dread Wolf, having him look up at her as if waiting for her judgement. “No,” she said, “I am grateful for those I have come to know through this, but you don’t get to justify your actions by telling me that I should be grateful for the good that came out of it regardless.  _ You  _ don’t have that right. Not here, Dread Wolf.” 

 

“I would much prefer if you called me Solas,” he said as he stood, unfurling to stand tall before her. “I’ve no wish to be the Dread Wolf to you.” 

 

“But it’s who you are.” 

 

“Yes,” he said, withering so suddenly he looked like a shell of his former self. “It is.” 

 

The silence returned again, lasting for a long while. They stared at each other, same-colored eyes matching the others’ gaze. Amarantha studied just how similar her eyes were to Solas’, and she wondered how she’d never made the connection before. Many elves shared the eye color, or a similar variation, but something in her felt that she should have suspected something. 

 

She should have done a lot of things differently, she thought retrospectively. 

 

Finally she sighed, slumping her shoulders and moving to sit on the sofa. “So you made numerous, grievous mistakes,” she said with a shrug, as if it wasn’t as momentous as she’d described, “And almost brought about the destruction of the world. Okay. Fine. I stopped Corypheus so for the moment I’m going to let go of all that and instead ask you two things. And I want honest answers.” 

 

“Very well,” Solas agreed. hand trailing along the desk, over the books that she had filled with her frantic writing. “I see the Well has proven useful,” he said, a proud smile ghosting across his face.

 

“You’re getting off topic.” 

 

He dropped his hand. “Your questions, then.” 

 

“First, What is this goal you’re trying to accomplish and why did you need the orb for it?” 

 

“Perceptive as always.” 

 

She glared. “Not an answer.” 

 

Solas shook his head. “I cannot give you one. It is….not time.” He waited a beat, then said, “What was your other question?” 

 

She took a moment to prepare herself. Then, “Did you really love my grandmother?” 

 

Solas spun, face pale and stricken as if she’d physically hit him. “How can you ask that?” 

 

She shrugged, gestured to the journal laying on the table. “I’ve an entire book about how she felt about you. What proof have you given? For as much as I can tell, you fucked her a few times and then went on your merry way.” It was a crass way of putting it, but she wanted to be sure Solas understood just how little she thought his feelings for her grandmother were. And it was true. He'd left, never known about his family. Surely someone who claimed to love another would not be so cruel?

 

Carefully, as if he were approaching a feral animal, Solas stepped forward and knelt in front of Amarantha, taking her hands in his. He stroked his hand over her own, turning it over so that the scar from the mark faced him. Bending over, he pressed a kiss to it, an offering of penance. 

 

“I loved her more than  _ anything _ .” 

 

“Just not enough to stay.” 

 

Solas dropped his head to rest atop their joined hands. A small part of him was surprised she hadn’t pulled away. But the anger he’d seen in her eyes when she’d turned to face him earlier had dwindled down into this sad, wilting thing that didn’t seem to have much fight left. She still snapped at him, a last effort of a wild animal at its end, but all the rage from before was gone. There was merely defeat. 

 

Was this what he did? Crushed those he loved until nothing but ruins remained? 

 

“I have things I must do,” he whispered, “And I could not stay. But I almost did. I wanted to. I loved-  _ love _ her so much. I...I knew that I could not tell her goodbye. If I did, she would have asked me to stay. And I would have. I have spent every day missing her. I have lived with my regret for longer than you know.” 

 

“Then why didn’t you take her with you?” 

 

He chuckled darkly at that. “You sound so much like her.” Then he sobered. “What do they say about me?” 

 

She knew exactly to what he referenced. “You are he who hunts alone.” 

 

Solas hated the words suddenly, a cruel reminder of his ultimate mistake. But he nodded. “Exactly.” 

 

“And yet, even with all that regret, you still managed to walk away again.” She pushed Solas away, gently, and stood. “Don’t move,” she said, and it wasn’t lost on her that she’d just ordered the Dread Wolf to stay. “Rilly will want to see you.” 

 

Solas stood, a frown etched deeply in his features.“I can’t-” 

 

“You will,” Amarantha said, turning to look at him directly, as commanding as he’d once been. “You owe her that much. I don’t care what you do after. But Rilly deserves to have some closure too.” 

 

“Where is she?” 

 

“Probably the rotunda.” She gave her grandfather a knowing look. “I’ll be right back.” 

 

Without waiting for Solas to respond, she turned and ran down the stairs, heart racing. She walked briskly out in the main hall, nodding politely to a few nobles who were paying a visit as she made her way toward the rotunda. Sure enough, Amaryllis was there, sitting at Solas’ desk reading. She didn’t look up immediately, and for a moment Amarantha thought that perhaps this was a mistake. It could be so easy to return to Solas and say that her sister didn’t want to see him. That he should go. But, she couldn’t do that to Rilly. As angry as she was, Amaryllis deserved the same opportunity she’d just had. 

 

Clearing her throat, she stepped forward, causing Amaryllis to look up. At her sister’s grim expression, she paled and stood. “Sister? What’s wrong?” 

 

Amarantha said nothing, merely walked forward and took her sister’s warm hands in hers. “There's someone here to see you. In my room.” 

 

Amaryllis’ eyes widened, her voice hitching as she breathed, “Solas?” 

 

Amarantha nodded. “He's waiting. Go.” 

 

Amaryllis let out a sob, released her sister’s hands, and  _ ran _ . 

 

She raced past the nobles who looked at her with distaste, sniffing haughtily as she ran. She took the stairs two, sometimes three at a time, focus entirely on reaching Solas. When she arrived at the landing she was out of breath, but she looked to her left to see him standing there, dressed in a strange armor with a fur sash. He offered her the smallest, saddest smile, and at the sight Amaryllis cried out and sped into Solas’ arms, knocking him back a step with the force of her embrace. 

 

Solas sank to his knees with her, breathing her in as he held her.  _ This  _ was the reunion he’d craved, the one he knew he didn’t deserve. He’d fully expected Amarantha’s anger, but he hadn’t known what Amaryllis might do. He’d seen her in the Fade looking for him, but she’d indicated nothing in her time spent waiting for him. Now she wept openly, clinging to him with such a force that could only belong to a child of his blood. 

 

“My flower,” he whispered, “My brave, beautiful, precious girl.” 

 

“Solas,” she sobbed, gripping the fur of his sash in her hands. “You’re back! I missed you.” 

 

“I missed you too, da’len,” he breathed, and no words had ever been truer. “So very much.” 

 

They held fast to each other, neither willing to let go. A few minutes later they heard the sound of boots echoing on the steps, and Solas glanced up to see Amarantha had returned, leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed as she watched them silently. 

 

Solas lifted Amaryllis into his arms and stood, then moved to sit with her on the sofa. She didn’t let go of him, instead merely shifted so that she was seated next to him even as her arms were wound around him, her face buried in his shoulder. 

 

“Why did you leave?” Amaryllis murmured against him, voice muffled. Solas turned to rest his cheek against her temple. 

 

“There are things I must do,” he said, “Things I cannot reveal. Not yet.” 

 

“You’re going to leave again.” It wasn’t a question, though it necessitated answering. Solas felt his heart crack as he nodded. 

 

“Yes.”

 

Amaryllis pulled away slightly, sitting back to look at her grandfather. “I understand,” she whispered, surprising both Solas and Amarantha. “So long as you promise not to stay away.” 

 

Solas swallowed, then looked up to Amarantha, seeking her permission. She merely shrugged and her indifference was almost more painful to him than rejection. He glanced down to his youngest grandchild. “I will not hide from you anymore. That much I will promise.” 

 

They curled into each other, both reluctant to let go. Amarantha couldn’t find it within her to begrudge her sister this moment, so she turned without a word and walked back out of her quarters, allowing the two to have a private moment without her judging gaze bringing a shadow over them. Not certain what else to do, Amarantha wandered idly toward the chapel beside the gardens.

 

It was empty, for which Amarantha was glad. She shut the door behind her and stepped toward the statue of Andraste, who looked down at her with hollow stone eyes. Silently, Amarantha sat on the ground before the statue, arms wrapped around her knees and looked up to the Bride of the Maker, wishing the woman would come to life and offer her advice. 

  
  


\-----------------

  
  


“Sister is angry.” 

 

Despite himself, Solas chuckled, running his fingers through her hair, so similar to his Albizia’s. “I know.” 

 

“Did she yell at you?” 

 

“A little.” 

 

“I think she’s wrong,” Amaryllis said as she shifted to make herself more comfortable. She’d yet to release her hold on Solas, for which the older mage couldn’t complain. It had been so long since he’d been so earnestly cared for, and he found that he didn’t want to let go of her either. “I don’t think you’re bad. You just made a mistake. And everyone does that.” 

 

“Perhaps,” Solas agreed, “But none quite so...impactful.” 

 

He felt her shrug against him. “Still a mistake. And you helped set it right. What’s to be mad about?” 

 

“I cannot blame your sister for her anger,” Solas said softly, “I would prefer her not to be so, but I will not begrudge her.” 

 

“But you told her it was an accident, right? Reminded her that you helped us? Sure you lied about who you are, but you can’t just go around telling everyone that you’re the Dread Wolf. Most people here wouldn’t even believe you.” 

 

Even as Solas was endeared to her sweet words, it was concerning that the sisters, who were usually united, stood on such opposing ground when it came to him. He’d created this rift between them, merely by being who he was. It was another thing gone wrong; another well-meaning attempt failed. 

 

“I’m sure they wouldn’t,” he agreed. 

 

“Did you apologize? Maybe that will help?” 

 

Her innocence was dear to him. Despite everything, he was pleased to see that some of it still remained. “What happens when someone is cut with a blade, da’len?” 

 

Amaryllis blinked. “They bleed?” 

 

“Correct. And do they heal instantly?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“No, they don’t. And what happens when the wound has finally healed?” 

 

‘It leaves a-” she broke off. “Oh. A scar.” 

 

“Exactly,” Solas explained, “I have wounded your sister. And it will take time for her to heal. And it will not heal perfectly. I cannot take back what I have done. I will leave her scarred, no matter what I may say or do. She merely needs time to heal.” 

 

“But what if she doesn’t?” Amaryllis asked. “I don’t want you to stay away because she’s mad.” 

 

“I do not think I have the strength to stay away,” Solas admitted after a long, contemplative moment. “I did so once, and my heart suffered for it. I never knew my daughter,” he said, and finally admitting the words aloud hurt worse than he’d ever dreamed possible. Like a part of him had been cut away, leaving him less than whole, “But I can know her daughters. And I intend to. Even if I cannot be around as often as I’d like.” 

 

“As long as you promise to come back, I don’t mind,” Amaryllis said, “Varric and Cassandra are gone. Miss Leliana is leaving soon. Dorian went away. Everyone is leaving, but they all promised to come back,” she said, “You can do the same.” 

 

He couldn’t keep coming back, he thought with devastation. He had things to accomplish; a plan centuries in the making. He had wrongs to right. He could not put them on hold any longer, not when he was closer now than he’d been before. His power was growing by the day, and he knew that soon would be the time to act. But he looked down at the elf in his arms, a mirror image of his Albizia, and he found that for the first time in his life, his dreams hadn’t been of restoring what he’d destroyed. 

 

It had been of his granddaughters. 

 

“You don’t have to walk alone anymore, Solas,” Amaryllis murmured against him, “You my family. And if no one else will,  _ I’ll  _ walk with you.” 

 

For not the first time, Solas wondered what he had done to deserve such a loving apprentice. 

 

_ No, _ he reminded himself.  _ My granddaughter.  _

  
  


\----------------

 

Silence surrounded her. Andraste offered no guidance, though that had been expected. Instead Amarantha enjoyed the comfort the presence of the statue offered, no deception, no lies. Just stone. She startled with a gasp when someone joined her, and she turned her head sharply to look at the boy beside her. 

 

“Where did you come from?”

 

Cole gestured behind him. “Outside. I used the door.” 

 

Amarantha blinked, feeling foolish. “Right.” 

 

Cole mimicked her pose, staring up at Andraste’s stone-faced gaze. “He hurts too, you know.” 

 

It was no secret to whom Cole was referring. “I don’t care.” 

 

“He doesn’t like lying,” the boy continued, “Doesn’t like knowing he caused so much pain.” 

 

“He’s done nothing  _ but _ hurt my family,” Amarantha snapped. “And he’s going to do it again. And I’m sitting here letting it happen.” 

 

“She hurt worse when she didn’t know,” Cole answered softly, “She doesn’t like not knowing. And now she does. That will heal the hurt..” 

 

“Cole,” Amarantha sighed, “This is one hurt you can’t help. This runs too deep.” 

 

“I’m not here to help your hurt,” Cole answered gentle as a lamb, “I’m here to help  _ him.” _

 

She scoffed. “I don’t care about what hurts him.” 

 

“ _ Your _ refusing to forgive him hurts him. Almost as much as walking away before.” 

 

“He could have stayed.” Was the response. Cole shook his head. 

 

“And he wanted to. More than anything. Dreams in the Fade; I dare not search them. I have searched all the Fade but never there. Can’t see what I never saw. Too much regret; Everything I touch turns to ash. I will destroy them. I will destroy them.” 

 

“Cole,” Amarantha said warningly. Cole ignored her. 

 

“My blood runs deep in their veins; hers runs deeper. They deserve more; what can I give them? The Dread Wolf can offer nothing. I am so sorry, da’len. One pushes while the other pulls. I am torn between them. Do I remain or do I flee? To stay would hurt one; to leave the other. I cannot make this right. For all that I am, I am powerless here. And yet they are strong enough for me. But I am not for them.” 

 

“Cole!” 

 

The boy blinked, then looked at Amarantha who was staring at him angrily. She’d never looked at him that way, but Cole knew the hurt wasn’t directed toward him. “I can’t help you,” he repeated, “Only you can help you. And you help you by helping him.” 

 

Amarantha curled in on herself, “I don’t want to help him,” she murmured, sounding more like a child than a grown woman. “He  _ abandoned _ us.” Her voice began to shake, trembling from the force of her grief. “And he’s all we have left.” She began to cry, overwhelmed by how much pain and loss she still felt. Her family was gone, her grandmother had dedicated her life to loving a man,  _ defending  _ a man, who had abandoned her and not once looked back. He seemed contrite, but it didn’t change the fact that her grandmother, her mother, she and her sister, had lost out on so much because of one man- one  _ god’s _ selfishness. 

 

Cole sat up on his knees and wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him and letting her cry. He said nothing, having learned that sometimes silence was the most helpful thing he could offer, and let her tears stain his tunic. 

 

Eventually she pulled away from him and wiped her eyes. “I’m being foolish,” she murmured, “This is ridiculous.” 

 

“Feelings aren’t ridiculous,” Cole corrected gently, “You feel them. Inside. How could they not matter?” 

 

Amarantha looked up at the boy. “When did you get so smart?” 

 

Cole shrugged. “Being human is a lesson.” 

 

That made Amarantha laugh, and she reached out to touch Cole’s cheek. “No wonder my sister likes you so much.” 

 

The boy started, as if he hadn’t expected her to know that. “I don’t know what to do about that,” he admitted. “Why does liking someone have to be complicated?” 

 

‘Because feelings are complicated,” Amarantha replied, gesturing to herself, “Look at me. I’m a mess.” 

 

“A pretty mess,” he replied simply. 

 

“Flatterer.” The word was accompanied with a roll of her eyes. 

 

“You want to forgive him,” Cole said, changing the subject, “But you can’t. Why?” 

 

“Because-” she stopped short, thinking. “I...I don’t know.” 

 

“Because it would mean letting him back in,” Cole mused, “And you don’t want to make the same mistake twice.” 

 

“No.” 

 

“But you want to know what he's going to do.” 

 

“He gave the orb to Corypheus. Knowing what Corypheus wanted. He's in loyal to anyone but himself. Of course I want to know what he's planning!” 

 

“Varric said something once,” Cole mused, “Something I didn’t understand. But I think I do now.” 

 

“What’s that?

 

“He was talking about a story. And he said, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’.” 

 

Amarantha blinked. Repeated the words in her mind. Bring Solas back into her life and regain his trust in order to figure out what he was doing? It could never work. She'd played her hand already: he knew she was angry and despised him. That sort of reconciliation, no matter if it were real or not, would have to be played long term. She couldn't risk turning around after an hour and claim forgiveness. 

 

No. She would need to think on this. Give it time to, if she chose to act upon Cole’s suggestion, make it believable. At any rate, if she  _ did _ choose to try to use Solas’ affection for their family against him, it would also allow her sister to be near him, something she knew her sister would appreciate.

 

“I think,” Amarantha spoke at length, a wolfish smile forming on her lips, “You've given me an idea.” 

 

\---------------

 

“So why can’t you tell me?” 

 

“Force of habit, mostly,” Solas replied, amused. “I do not think it wise to reveal things so soon.” 

 

“I could help you,” Amaryllis offered, then recanted, “As long as what you’re doing isn’t bad. Is it?” 

 

And wasn’t that the question of the day? “I suppose it depends on who you ask,” He replied diplomatically, “Some may say it is bad. I believe it is for the best.” 

 

“Then I trust you. And if you want my help, I’ll give it.” 

 

Solas was touched by his granddaughter’s sweetness. She certainly hadn’t inherited  _ that _ from him. “I will bear that in mind,” he said, and found that surprisingly, he meant it. What would he be able to accomplish with this small girl at his side? She was young, powerful, and only had room to grow. It was a possibility, one he stored away to ponder on at a later time. 

 

They were interrupted by the returning echo of boots on the stairwell, once more signaling Amarantha’s return. Solas stood in anticipation, and watched as her head appeared over the stone banister. She looked significantly calmer, though her cheeks bore the stains of tears. Solas winced at that, knowing he’d been the source of them. 

 

Amarantha stood for a long moment, as if she were debating something. She did not look at him, and he waited, wondering if she would ask him to leave. Finally she looked up, and he saw a cool confidence in her eyes that was like looking in a mirror. 

 

“You came to offer congratulations on my engagement,” she said at last. “Perhaps, when a date is settled upon, I may issue you an invitation. If you like.” 

 

Mildly suspicious, but overwhelmingly touched by her words, Solas stepped forward and let his hand fall to rest against her cheek. As if by reflex, Amarantha leaned into the touch, eyes slipping closed at the familiar, comforting contact. But a moment later she came to herself and stepped away from him, eyes cold and uncertain but no longer threatening. Confused. 

 

“I would be honored to attend,” he answered at last. She merely nodded. 

 

Stepping away, Solas turned to Amaryllis and smiled warmly. “I have interrupted your day long enough,” he said, “I’m sure you both have plenty to do.” 

 

“Don’t go!” Amaryllis begged, latching onto Solas’ hand. “Not yet.” 

 

“I must,” he answered, bending down to press a kiss to her forehead. “But you’ll find me in the Fade. I am not lost to you.” 

 

Accepting that, Amaryllis hugged him, arms tight around his frame, then released him and moved to stand next to her sister, who draped her hands over her shoulders protectively. Solas turned away to disappear, but Amaranth’s voice called out to him first. 

 

“Solas?” 

 

He turned. 

 

She stared at him for a long moment, a myriad of remarks fighting for release. She wanted to confront him, call him out, let him know this was not over; but if she wanted to gain his trust, if she wanted to pull him back in to figure out what he was doing, she had to be smarter than that. 

 

She was the granddaughter of the Dread Wolf. She would play the long game. 

 

“She never stopped loved you.”

 

A small, sad smile grace his countenance, and his eyes sparkled in remembrance of the woman who linked them together. 

 

And then he was gone. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you had either a Happy Thanksgiving or just a good weekend! 
> 
> Title of the song comes from Phildel's 'The Wolf'. Fantastic song; I recommend checking it out.


	47. Digging Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amarantha learns more about the mark and gets a lesson from a friend.

Amarantha sat with her head in her hand, slumped in her chair as Leliana, Josephine, Mia, and Cassandra discussed wedding ideas. Cassandra, who had insisted on joining in on the talks through the crystal, was the romantic one, talking about a moonlight wedding with lots of roses somewhere outside. Josephine was the one concerned with making sure the wedding would be as inoffensive as possible, which meant there would be no small expense in feeding the ever-growing guest list, Leliana was, thankfully, the practical one, suggesting that while the wedding would no doubt have to be large to accommodate everyone, it could still be simple. And Mia was no help at all, far too excited about the fact that her brother was getting married to truly mind  _ what _ the wedding would be like. She agreed with each idea enthusiastically, and the more outlandish the plan, the more she seemed to like it. 

 

Personally, Amarantha didn’t care. Her conversations with both Cole and Solas - the latter of whom she’d yet to mention to anyone else- had shaken her, and she couldn’t stop replaying the conversation over in her mind, wondering if she’d been too harsh on Solas, if she’d not been harsh enough, and either way, why on earth had he let her talk to him like that? He was the Dread Wolf after all, and Amarantha knew that, kin or not, she probably shouldn’t have spoken to an elven god in such a manner. He’d seemed unconcerned with her lack of respect however, so perhaps that didn’t mean quite as much to him as she thought it might. 

 

On top of that, her dreams had returned, wolves plaguing her sleep. They always bore the same six red eyes, and ranged from a remorseful pup to a vengeful monster. Amarantha supposed in a way, he was both.

 

But remorseful or not, the man was up to something, and she needed to figure out what.  _ What could be so important that he can’t remain here? _ Amarantha pondered, brow creasing as she ransacked her mind for any possible solution.  _ Voices, if you have any insight, now would be the perfect time to-  _

 

“Amarantha?” 

 

Amarantha startled, looking up to see two pairs of eyes staring at her with concern. Embarrassed that she’d been caught daydreaming, she sat up straight, and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said, “What?” 

 

“We were wondering if you would like to be married in the Chantry. It will be quite expected, though if you truly wish to hold a ceremony outside, we could,” Josephine said, pen tapping against her chin as she thought, “Though we will have to account for the space. And weather. And where to put the food; will that be inside or outside as well? Perhaps-” 

 

The conversation continued on. Debates on how to announce the engagement - a proclamation sent out by the Inquisition to the public -the location of the wedding - Val Royeaux - and the date - in four months time - were all settled by the time Amarantha wearily trudged out of the office. Vivienne had been recruited to oversee the wedding dress, a task she happily took even if her upset over not being named Divine further darkened the storm cloud that usually accompanied her. 

 

Over the course of the next several days, Amarantha was kept unbearably busy. Letters of congratulations began to pour in, as well as correspondence regarding New Haven and the dissolution of the Inquisition as a military force in Thedas. That would be a slow endeavor, even as there was great support for the New Haven initiative, thanks to Divine Victoria’s unwavering support. Additionally, Amarantha had to approve a guest list for the wedding - names she barely remembered but knew held extreme importance. She was also well aware that a slight on her part, no matter how unintentional, might mean a loss of support for New Haven. She had to tread carefully. 

 

“If only I’d been obliterated along with Corypheus, then I wouldn’t have to face all this,” she lamented to Cullen one evening, about two weeks after the announcement had been made official. They were seated in his office playing a game of chess. He was winning easily, and had won the past two games. 

 

“Don’t say that,” he say dryly as he considered his next move. “I’d have no one to play chess with.” 

 

“You’d have Mia.” 

 

He cringed. “Oh Maker, please don't leave me then!” 

 

Laughing, Amarantha watched as Cullen took another one of her pieces and sighed. “My heart just isn’t in it tonight, I’m afraid.” 

 

He looked up, sympathy shining in his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

 

“It’s the wedding,” she sighed. “I don’t know if I can manage all this nonsense for the next four months.” She moved a piece after a moment of thought. “Not when there are so many other more important things occupying my thoughts.” 

 

“Oh, marrying me isn’t important?” Cullen teased. 

 

Her head shot up, alarmed. “That’s not what I meant!” She clarified, then relaxed when she saw his smile. “I cannot wait to marry you. I just don’t care about the wedding. If that makes sense.” 

 

“Well, we could always elope,” Cullen remarked offhandedly. Amarantha blinked.

 

“Elope?” 

 

“Run off and marry in secret,” Cullen explained at her curious response. “Do the dalish not do that?” 

 

She shook her head. “Not that I ever saw. We did most things as a unit. With some small exceptions, no one would have married without the approval of the clan.” 

 

“It’s usually scandalous,” Cullen agreed, “Though perhaps not always. Anyway. I believe I win again.” 

 

Looking down at the board, Amarantha scoffed at the sight of Cullen’s victory. “Congratulations on your win, Commander,” she said cheekily. “Shall I reward you for a job well done?” 

 

Cullen was on his feet in an instant, pulling up Amarantha and leading her to the ladder. 

 

\--------------------------------

 

The next day Amarantha sat in her room, leaning forward in her chair. Her left arm stretched out over her desk and her gaze was focused on her hand. Another dream had left her restless. She hated that she was still so distracted by her potential powers, but her connection to Solas and the orb and his magic were still rattling in her brain like a caged animal. She stared at her hand for a long moment, the scar on her palm the focal point.  _ What else can Solas’ magic do _ ? She wondered. She’d watched him use magic numerous times in the past. Simple tricks to entertain as well as massive bursts of fire and ice, and even a few healing spells were all easily performed by the mage-  _ god _ , her mind supplied, and though she herself wasn’t a mage, she wondered if, with enough practice, she could wield those same abilities. 

 

_ Why am I not a mage though _ , she asked herself suddenly. She knew the ability was inherited, but wouldn’t something like being the heir of a god ensure that she had magic? She wasn’t certain, but she had the anchor now, and she’d managed to wield it before, covering herself in its power, though that feat hadn’t proved particularly useful. 

 

_ What does the anchor  _ do _ though, _ she pondered,  _ Maybe if I understand it better, I can figure out how what that bastard has planned _ . 

 

That was a good first step, she reckoned. So she sat back and thought.  _ What does the anchor do?  _

 

“It opened the Breach,” she answered aloud, a whisper of an answer. 

 

_ And what else? _

 

“It closed the rifts. And the Breach. And killed the demons that spawned from it on occasion.” 

 

_ What else can you do with it? _

 

“I opened up my own rift and swallowed demons inside. I stepped through the Fade in Val Royeau. I can summon the energy to cover me, though what I do with that is uncertain. Beyond what I can manipulate it to do, its purpose was to open and close rifts.” 

 

_ Why? _

 

“Why indeed,” Amarantha remarked aloud. “Why would Solas want to open and close rifts? He can walk in the Fade without care. It seems redundant.” She sat back and closed her eyes. “Let’s see. He needed the orb. He couldn’t use it. He gave it to Corypheus. I ended up with the mark, that essentially controlled the Breach and the rifts. I could close them. I can open new ones. I can travel through the Fade in an instant. What would those things do to serve Solas? Why would he need those abilities? She thought on it a while longer, then stood up with a growl and marched over to where the crystals sat. Picking one up, she called out, “Dorian?” 

 

A moment later, the Tevinter mage answered, sounding quite delighted. “Need some wedding advice?” He teased. “I knew you’d be a smart girl and come to me. You Southerners have grown on me, but even you can agree that their tastes leave a little- or a  _ lot _ \- to be desired.” 

 

“Actually,” Amarantha said, stifling a laugh, “I’m calling about something not quite as happy.” 

 

“Oh, dear,” Dorian tsked, “Trouble in paradise?” 

 

“I need to know what you know about the Fade.” 

 

“Well,” Dorian said, growing serious, “Every being, save Dwarves and apparently Qunari travel there when they sleep. Mages tap into it when they use magic. Mages generally are the only ones who can remember their time in the Fade, you being the one exception I know of, though you also have the influence of the anchor. Some like Solas-” he broke off, instantly regretting bringing up the elf, but when Amarantha remained silent, he continued, “Are able to more effectively walk there. Though I’d say there are other factors at play in  _ that _ particular circumstance.” He waited a moment then asked, hesitantly, “Why are you asking?” 

 

“Because I want to figure out what he’s doing, and I think if I can better understand the mark and its abilities regarding the Fade, I can do it.” 

 

“Well, the mark opens and closes rifts,” Dorian supplied, “Though we already  _ knew _ that. I’ve done a little research on the foci like you asked, but there’s not much. They channel the power of the person using it, and were typical of your pantheon. They require a great amount of power to unlock.” 

 

Most of it was information she already knew. But it still provided her with necessary insight, even as it didn’t answer her questions. “That doesn’t explain why he wanted to use the orb,” she sighed, “Only why he couldn’t.” 

 

“Perhaps you’re looking in the wrong place,” Dorian suggested helpfully. Amarantha stared at the orb for a moment, confused. 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“I think,” Dorian supplied, “That it’s not a matter of the orb, or the Fade, or the anchor, that you need to understand. I think you need to understand the  _ man _ behind it all.” 

 

“Fen’-” she paused, suddenly afraid to speak the name aloud lest she invoke the person with it. “My grandfather.” 

 

“Exactly,” Dorian answered, “And I don’t mean sit down for tea with the bastard. I mean study the legends. You’re Dalish, you probably already know all the tales.” 

 

“And most were quickly dismissed by Grandmamae.” 

 

“She was biased,” Dorian said dismissively. “You need  _ real _ accounts of him. No matter what he might be to your family, he’s also the Dread Wolf. And  _ that _ ’ _ s _ who you need to get to know.” 

 

“Then I have some reading to do,” Amarantha said with determination. She knew Dorian would be able to help. He was one of the few who was both knowledgable on the subject  _ and _ trustworthy. “Thanks, Dorian.” 

 

“One bit of advice,” Dorian added quickly before she let go of the orb, “Don’t get lost in this, dear heart. You’re getting married soon. Focus on that. Cullen deserves you at your best. Not half mad trying to figure out what some poorly-dressed apostate god wanted to do with a hideously designed orb.” 

 

Despite the seriousness of his warning, his wording made Amarantha laugh. “I promise, Dorian,” she said, “I’m just curious.” 

 

“Well, you know what they say, ‘Curiosity killed the nug’. Do be careful.” 

 

“I promise.” 

 

“Good girl,” he said, then added after a beat, “Give Bull my love.” 

 

“I don’t think I’m comfortable with that,” she teased, nose wrinkling, “If it’s all the same.” 

 

“You are a foul little creature and I am leaving.” 

 

“Bye, Dorian.” 

 

“Farewell, Petal.” 

 

She returned the crystal to its place and stood for a moment, hand pressed to her chin. She had a council meeting to prepare for tomorrow regarding New-Haven, but this was a matter that weighed heavily on her. She wandered back to her desk and glanced at her reports. Everything she needed for the meeting was ready, and what wasn’t would be taken care of during discussions. She had time for the moment, and decided that it was best to get a head start while she had a moment of peace. Shoving the journal into one of the drawers, she exited the room and headed toward the library in hopes of finding what she needed .

 

\-------------------

 

Dorian was a master of organization. The books were arranged in the most careful manner, organized first by country of publication, then by subject, then by author’s name. The catalogue was meticulously maintained as well, everyone who borrowed a book required to sign the ledger with their name, the title of the book, and the date it was borrowed. It seemed that with Dorian’s absence the strictness had lessened, but even with that lapse, she was still able to find several tomes of elven lore, including one that had several brief but telling mentions of the Dread Wolf. 

 

It wasn’t as if Amarantha didn’t already know the stories. She did. But they’d been tainted by her grandmother, who had dismissed aspects of them and wove her own, saying that she didn’t believe all the rubbish that was thrown around about the god of mischief. Now Amarantha wondered just how many of those things she’d altered in her tellings were actually true. How much of the legend that prevailed in the Dalish camps was accurate and how much was false? 

 

The book didn’t offer much insight, merely mentioned the same old story about Fen’Harel locking away the gods and laughing madly with glee.  _ That _ didn’t seem like Solas at all, and she realized then that she had a truly difficult time reconciling the two men into the same person. Fen’Harel was a trickster, an imp. Solas was a wise, quiet, stoic man who enjoyed debates and reason and study. How could he be the same Fen’Harel that the stories spoke of? Certainly he’d changed over the years: no god could remain stagnant, she reasoned. But how changed was he? How accurate were the depictions of him in the history books? And what could this story have to do with why he wanted that orb so badly?

 

_ Why aren’t the voices offering me anything? _

 

She thought perhaps she might need to dig deeper into the Well’s memories to discover what she wanted to know, but before she could figure out the perfect place to make that happen, the sound of thumping steps caught her attention. 

 

She saw his horns before the rest of him, and it was with a squeal (that garnered her a harsh  _ shhh! _ ) that she ran to greet the Iron Bull. 

 

“Hey, Boss!” Bull said, taking the small elf in his arms and swinging her in a circle. Amarantha laughed childishly, reminded in a small way of her father doing the same to her when she was a girl. Bull let go of her, and she stepped back, grinning wide. 

 

“When did you get back?” She asked. 

 

“‘Bout an hour ago,” Bull replied, guiding her back to where she’d been sitting. He took the chair across from her and sank low, legs stretched out in front of him as he relaxed. “Had to make a stop at the Rest first.” 

 

“Of course,” Amarantha acknowledged. Nothing was more important to Bull on a return trip than ordering a large mug of Qunari ale. “So how are you? 

 

Bull’s lip twitched, and he allowed himself to look as he no doubt felt: weary. “I’m good,” he said, and it was almost convincing. “I mostly came because it’s….familiar.” 

 

“I miss him,” Amarantha said, understanding exactly what the Bull meant. Her words earned her a small smirk from the Qunari. 

 

“He certainly made an impact here,” Bull acknowledged, and it wasn’t lost on Amarantha just how true that statement was. Dorian had made a deep impact at Skyhold: not just with his ability, charm, and organizational skills, but with his kindness, his companionship, and his love. His absence was greatly noted. 

 

“The crystal’s help,” Amarantha offered, “Though it’s not quite the same.” 

 

“I hear that,” Bull agreed, lifting a hand as if he were holding a mug and waiting for her to clank her own glass to his. She lifted her hand, reached over the table, and did just that, making the Bull laugh softly. She settled back into her seat, her feet curled underneath her. Bull glanced down at the books spread out between them. “Doing a little light reading?” He asked. 

 

Amarantha shrugged. “I suppose.” 

 

“Solas still messing with your head, then?” 

 

Amarantha’s head shot up, eyes wide as she stared at Bull. “How did you-” 

 

“You’ve got books about Elven history out, you’re keeping your left hand close to you at all times, and you look exhausted, which means you’re either not sleeping well, or you’re not sleeping at all. I’m assuming it’s the former one, since you probably don’t want to worry your sister or Cullen, which, by the way, congrats on the upcoming nuptials.” 

 

“Thanks,” she smiled, moving her left hand away from her chest where it had been resting, clinched in a fist. “And, yeah. You’re mostly right.” She rolled her eyes, “It’s sometimes really inconvenient that you’re trained as a spy.” 

 

“Yeah, well,” Bull shrugged, looking smug as he did so, “You wanna talk about it? You’re practically trembling with nerves so clearly you want to talk about it but don’t want to bring it up.” 

 

“You can stop at any time,” she remarked dryly, then sighed heavily and leaned forward. She glanced around quickly but there was no one upstairs at the moment, for which she was grateful. “And you can’t say a word.” 

 

“Cross my heart,” Bull said, mimicking the action over his chest. 

 

“Solas came to see me.” 

 

Bull blinked. “Shit. When?” 

 

“Couple of weeks ago,” Amarantha said, “I….might have…..not been very welcoming.” 

 

Bull chuckled at that. “Well now you gotta tell me what you said to the bastard.” She did. Bull whistled. “Damn, Boss. You let him have it good.” 

 

She smiled at that, proud but sorrowful. “I haven’t told anyone. Well, minus Rilly.” She blinked away a tear, feeling the guilt sink in. “I haven’t even told Cullen.” 

 

“Why not?” Bull asked. “You know he cares about you. He won’t judge you for what you did.” 

 

“I know,” Amarantha said, “But I just...I made  _ such _ a big deal out of all this, and then Solas shows up and after a few harsh words I just….what….suddenly start thinking that maybe I was too harsh on him? I mean, I don’t trust him and I never will again, I don’t think, but he’s  _ up _ to something, and I need to know what.” She blew air out of her mouth, and then added, “And I just….I’m afraid all this elven god nonsense is going to scare Cullen away. That one day he’ll look at me and decide that being the granddaughter of a god is way too much for him to handle, and that it would be best to find some sweet Chantry girl who isn’t a complicated mess with a fucked up family history.” 

 

Bull scoffed. “You know he’s not going to do that. We  _ both _ know he wouldn’t do that. I was at Haven ten minutes and could tell he was smitten with you. Hell, I think  _ everyone _ knew you two were keen on each other.” 

 

“People have fallen apart over less,” she remarked softly. 

 

“Yeah, because people are assholes who aren’t willing to work for what they want,” Bull grunted. “You think I like the fact that I’m here and Dorian is in Tevinter? Hell no. But it’s what needs to happen right now, and I’m going to support him as best I can. I can’t tell you how many times in the past couple weeks I’ve wished I wasn’t Qunari, or Dorian wasn’t a ‘Vint, or that things could be different, or easier, or whatever. But the fact is that they aren’t, and I have to decide whether or not Dorian is worth it. And every day I wake up, you know what I decide?” 

 

“That he is?” 

 

Bull nodded and met her eyes with his. “That he is. And I guarantee, that if you went to Cullen right now and told him everything, he’d probably be a little overwhelmed- which is understandable- but he’d wake up tomorrow morning with the thought, ‘I’m one day closer to marrying the woman I love’.”

 

Amarantha shifted. “I think,” she said, looking down sheepishly, “You just gave me a very swift kick in the pants that was probably very much needed.” 

 

“Yep,” Bull said, moving his hands behind his head with a satisfied grunt. “So, you gonna go talk to your man?” 

 

“Do I have a choice?” 

 

“Sure. But only one of ‘em’s the right choice.” 

 

Amarantha stood. “I’ll go find Cullen, then.” 

 

“Maybe get him drunk first!” Bull called out over his shoulder. Amarantha’s response was to flip him off, and Bull’s laughter followed her all the way out of the library. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if it was my own error or what, but some of the past 5-6 chapters somehow got out of order, duplicated, and messed up. No idea what the hell that was about. Should be fixed though. Yikes.... that was an unpleasant thing to encounter when trying to update tonight.


	48. Union Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets abound- some good, and some dreadful.

Chapter Forty-Eight: Union Stone 

 

Cullen took the news surprisingly well. 

 

“So, he’s coming to the wedding?” He asked, and it struck Amarantha as humorous that  _ that _ seemed to be Cullen’s main concern. 

 

“I told him he’d be welcome. I have to gain his trust somehow. I thought the wedding might be a useful way to start building that trust.” 

 

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” He asked as he fiddled with a thread on his blanket. Amarantha had told him everything, but had done it while pacing in front of him, too nervous and afraid to sit still. He’d not moved, merely asked questions in that wonderful but frustratingly calm manner of his, and she’d answered them all. This, however was the question she’d been dreading, and while it hadn’t been easy to confess her fear to Bull, it was even harder now that Cullen was to be the one to hear it. 

 

“Because,” she sighed, steps slowly as she tried to form the words, “You’re one of the most faithful men to Andraste and the Maker that I’ve ever seen. And here I am, some Dalish girl who happens to be the descendant of one of our race’s most infamous and nefarious gods. I bear  _ his _ mark on my arm, I have the ability to rip open and close rifts, and,” here she paused, debating on whether to continue. She hadn’t mentioned this to Bull, but if she were being honest with Cullen now, she may as well be  _ honest _ , “I’ve been experimenting with the possibility of using the mark beyond that. I think, because of who I am, I can….wield the magic that was meant for Solas. I’ve been able to control it better, make it….do more….I think, with enough practice and work, I could potentially be as powerful as if I were an actual Mage. And I  _ want _ to do it, too. I have the damn thing, why not make it work for me?” She paused then, and sighed. “And I'm afraid all of that will scare you away. And I don't know if my heart could take it, knowing you no longer loved me.” 

 

Cullen said nothing. Fear welled up in Amarantha at his silence, which she took as rejection, and she was about to apologize and take back everything when she heard him move and step to her. He took her into his arms, and lifted her chin with his hand so that she was looking up at him. 

 

“You are not just some Dalish girl,” he stressed, “You are a woman. A woman with a marvelous, albeit tragic, background. You cannot help who your family is, and I will not condemn you or your sister for being born to some elven god that I can barely comprehend. The mark was not your choice to bear, but I would rather you own it with confidence then spend the rest of your life in fear of what it might do. I don’t understand it all, and I will admit that some of it  _ is _ strange and frightening, but beyond all that, all the chaos and uncertainty and magic and madness, I see  _ you _ . And I want you for my wife, regardless of what baggage you happen to bring with you.” He laughed darkly. “Maker knows I have issues of my own. I’m an ex-Templar recovering from lyrium addiction and a lifetime of prejudice against mages. Maker knows I’m just as fearful that one day you’ll look at me and think _ I’m  _ not enough. That I am no longer worthy of your love.”

 

A gasp slipped from Amarantha, and she threw her arms around Cullen’s shoulders pulling him close to her. “ _ Never _ !” She cried, “I could  _ never _ think that of you!” 

 

“Then we understand each other?” He asked, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She nodded. “Good.” 

 

It was only when he wiped her face with his thumb that she realized she was crying, and she ducked her head, sniffling. “Creators, we’re something aren’t we?” 

 

Cullen laughed. “Indeed we are,” he said, as he pulled her with him to the bed. He held her close to him, kissing her gently, whispering words of love to her in between each tender gesture. She held fast to him, loving how kind and understanding he was. Loving how brilliant and wonderful and compassionate he was. Loving that someday soon, she would be his wife. 

 

_ But not soon enough _ .

 

“Marry me,” she whispered against his lips after a moment. Cullen smiled against her. 

 

“Of course.” 

 

“No,” she whispered, pulling back to look at him, wide-eyed and just as surprised as he was. “Tonight.” 

 

Cullen moved them so he was reclined on his elbows. “Are you serious?” He asked. She swallowed. 

 

“Neither of us care about this wedding,” she whispered, as if they might be overhead. “If we really want to be together, and humans elope all the time, then what’s stopping us? We can still have the wedding- we’ll have to for the sake of New Haven. But that’s it. It’s just a publicity stunt to win over nobles. It isn’t about us anyway. Not really. And I don’t need a dress or a thousand people watching. I just need you.” 

 

Cullen considered for a moment. “We’ll need witnesses.” 

 

“And a rope.” 

 

“What!?” 

 

Amarantha giggled. “The Dalish don’t ‘marry’. They do a handfasting. Bind their hands together with a rope to symbolize unity.” 

 

“We’d still need a member of the chantry to make it official.” 

 

“Can you get one, then? One who will keep silent? I’ll get witnesses.” 

 

“Who?” 

 

“Our sisters.” 

 

Cullen grinnned. “Perfect.” 

 

They scrambled up from the bed, and rushed out of the office. Cullen grabbed her hand, stopping them, and kissed her knuckles. “One hour. In front of your tree.” 

 

Amarantha grinned, and rushed off to find Mia and Amaryllis.  

  
  


\--------------------------------

 

“An elopement!” Mia exclaimed with a clap of her hands.  “That sounds wonderful!” 

 

Amarantha laughed, glad that her future sister was amenable to the idea. “Come on then. I have to find my sister.” 

 

The two women went in search for Amaryllis, who was in the training yard with her staff. It was near nightfall, and the yard was mostly empty, the majority of those remaining either preparing to turn in for the evening or already happily seated in the Herald’s Rest. 

 

When she saw her sister and Mia, Amaryllis ceased her practice and turned to face them, eyeing them curiously. “What’s going on?” 

 

Amarantha knelt down to her sister and whispered in her ear. Rilly’s eyes went alight. “Really!?” 

 

Amarantha nodded. Amaryllis clapped her hands and shoved her staff into its sheath on her back. “Then let’s go!” 

 

Amarantha stopped by the armory and did a little searching, pulling out a short rope from among the supplies. It wouldn’t be missed, she figured, and then ran back outside to find the other two waiting on her. They made their way to the gardens, blessedly empty, and Amarantha paused when she saw Cullen there with a cleric. Her heart pounded and she felt dizzy with excitement. She was about to marry the man she loved, with little warning and no fuss. It was hard to believe, but she took a breath, feeling at ease for the first time in weeks, and approached him and the cleric. 

 

“Good evening,” she greeted the cleric before turning to look at Cullen. “And hello.” 

 

Cullen grinned. “Sister Vander has agreed to wed us,” Cullen spoke in hushed tones. “And she will not breathe a word to anyone. We can trust her.” 

 

Amarantha nodded and turned to Sister Vander. “You have my deepest thanks, SisterVadner.” 

 

The woman pressed a fist to her heart. “I am happy to be of service, Inquisitor. You have done so much for us. I am pleased to be able to do something for you.” 

 

Amarantha smiled and pressed a kiss to the woman’s cheek. Then she turned to her sister and future sister-in-law and grinned. “Ready?” 

 

They nodded. Amarantha turned back to Cullen and held up the rope. She gestured to Rilly, who promptly stepped forward and began to wrap their joined hands together, as she’d seen so many times in their clan. As she worked, Amarantha spoke. 

 

“The Dalish value love greatly,” she began, softly, “When we find the one to whom our soul belongs, we rejoice in the blessing that love has added to our lives and our clan.. You are not Dalish by blood, but I have seen the love you offer to my sister, to me. You are one of us, and we are a part of you. I pray the love between us continues to blossom and grow, as strong as the rope that binds us now. The Dalish custom is to become ‘bound’ with your other part, the match to your soul. No force save death can ever sever that bond. The binding of this rope serves as a reminder that our lives are whole but joined, wrapped around each other as fate intended.” Once Amarantha was finished, she stepped back with a satisfied look. Amarantha then said in elven, “I pledge it before my gods, family, and friends, to love you until death.” 

 

Pausing, she whispered, “Now you say it.” 

Nodding, Cullen repeated the phrase in elven, slower perhaps than Amaranta, but with no less sincerity. 

 

“We are bound in body, mind, and spirit, together until death.”

 

At that, she nodded to Sister Vander, who spoke words of the Chantry, and had Cullen and Amarantha repeat the traditional vows. When they were finished, she smiled and said, “By the blessing of Andraste and the Maker, I declare you before these witnesses to be husband and wife.” 

 

Cullen leaned down to kiss his wife. When their lips parted he whispered to her breathlessly, “Finally.” 

 

\-----------------------------------

 

They gave Sister Vander some money in thanks, then the foursome moved to the Herald’s Rest to celebrate. They played it cool, simply the four of them gathering for a drink. They ordered and relaxed. 

 

“This is so exciting,” Mia whispered, delight radiating off her, “I can’t believe my brother eloped!” 

 

Cullen smiled. “I can’t either. But I have to say, I’m quite happy.” 

 

“Good!” Amarantha laughed, “Else we’d be in trouble.” 

 

Finally after what seemed like far too long, Mia stretched and yawned, “Well, I’m exhausted,” she said, “Anyone else ready to turn in?” She tossed a glance to Amarantha and winked. Amarantha flushed. 

 

“Yes,” Cullen agreed. “Why don’t we get some rest.” 

 

“Rilly, why don’t you come and spend the night with me,” Mia offered. “I haven’t had a chance to really get to know you and I’d like to.” 

 

Amaryllis looked at Mia quizzically for a moment, then realization dawned. “Oh. Gross.” 

 

Amarantha’s cheeks were bright red, but she said nothing. Rilly eventually shrugged. “Sure. I think that would be fun.” She then glanced at her sister with a knowing look. “Sleep well, sister.” 

 

“Shut up,” she murmured back before pressing a kiss to her sister’s cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. Amaryllis kissed her back. 

 

“I love you too.” 

 

Amarantha let go then, and the four went their separate ways. “I need to get something out of the rotunda,” Amaryllis said to Mia. “Is that okay?” 

 

“Take your time,” Mia said with a grin, “I need to tidy up anyway. I confess I’m a bit messy.” 

 

Amaryllis laughed. “Sister gets on to me about leaving things everywhere.” 

 

“I think you and I will get along just fine,” Mia said with a grin. “See you in a little bit.” 

 

They parted ways and Amaryllis moved towards the rotunda. Sighing wistfully, she stood in the middle, listening to the sound of Leliana’s messenger birds rustling far above her head. It was quiet for the most part, though there was a lingering hum of one of the librarians who had replaced Dorian. The humming had been annoying at first, but ultimately Amaryllis had grown to appreciate the distant song, so much that she’d sought out the woman one day to ask what the song was. 

 

The woman was clearly up late organizing the books that traveled in and out of the library on a daily basis, her private joy the solitude the night provided where she might work in peace. Amaryllis enjoyed laying on the sofa that had once been Solas’ and listening as she drifted to sleep to the sweet melody that floated down the walls and comforted her, reminded her of a time when she’d slept among her people and someone was always singing. 

 

“You’re melancholy.” 

 

Turning from her spot, Amaryllis looked at Cole who was standing in the doorway, large hat clutched to his chest. 

 

Amaryllis shrugged. “Things are changing,” she said simply as she made herself comfortable on the sofa. “I like the changes, but still.” 

 

“You want more changes.” 

 

Amaryllis’ brow rose at that. “Do I?” 

 

“I don’t have to be a spirit of compassion to see that you’re hurting.” 

 

“I’m not  _ hurting _ ,” Amaryllis insisted, “I just….wish.” 

 

“You want what your sister has.” 

 

That caused Amaryllis to look wide eyed at her friend, slightly horrified at his easy ability to read her. “You can’t know about that!” She said urgently, “No one knows!” She paused, then added, “And I’ve never said-” 

 

“You don’t have to,” Cole said with a shrug. “You hurt. I don’t like it that you hurt.” He paused and looked away, “I don’t like that you look at me and hurt.” 

 

“Cole, it’s not-” 

 

The boy turned and rested his finger against her lips, silencing her. “It is. And I feel it strongest tonight.” 

 

Amaryllis leaned back, away from Cole’s touch. “I don’t expect anything. You’re my friend. I like that you’re my friend. Nothing  _ has _ to change.” She shrugged, “It’s a silly feeling, and I’m sure it will pass.” 

 

“Maybe,” Cole agreed, “But you don’t want it to.” 

 

“I don’t like that you can do that right now.” 

 

Cole shifted. “Then I’ll stop. But you have to tell me your feelings.” 

 

“What if I don’t want to?” 

 

“Then I’ll go.” 

 

She shifted her eyes to him. “Just like that?” 

 

Cole moved to the sofa and sat, crossing his legs under him. “I like helping people; seeing people happy. But sometimes I think that I could be content always making you happy.” 

 

Amaryllis joined him. Sitting up straight, Amaryllis took a long breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “Really?” 

 

“I think so,” the boy admitted, “I don’t….I don’t really understand romantic love.” 

 

Amaryllis laughed. “I don’t think I do either.” 

 

Cole held out his hand to her, palm up, waiting. “We could figure it out,” he offered, “I think, if I want to keep being human, I should try. Do you want to try?” 

 

Slowly, Amaryllis lifted her hand to rest in Cole’s. “Yeah,” she said, “I do.” 

 

Shifting their hands so that their fingers were interlocked, Cole scooted closer to Amaryllis, who curled up against him contentedly. “This is nice,” she whispered as the lingering whisper of a song hung overhead.

“You’re happy, then?” He felt her nod against him. Cole smiled and looked down at their joined hands. 

 

“Me too.” After a moment he whispered, “I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?” 

 

Amaryllis shrugged. “No. Right now I’m exactly where I want to be.” 

 

\-------------------

 

The moment Cullen and Amarantha were alone, they rounded on each other, Cullen winding up pressed against the stone wall as his wife-  _ his wife! _ \- began kissing him with unbridled lust. He wasted no time is pulling her closer to him, hands trailing over the soft material of her dress before moving up to tangle in her hair. There was no physical evidence of their union: no rings, nothing that might hint that they’d exchanged vows already, but when Cullen looked down at the woman in his arms, he found none of that mattered: she had pledged herself to him- and he to her- and they were  _ finally _ married. 

 

Nothing else mattered, save that they belonged to one another. 

 

Lifting her into his arms, he carried her up the steps to her bed, where he laid her down, then quickly followed to hover over her. She was beaming, bright as the moon that shone in through her window, and her hands instantly began pulling on the buttons of his trousers. 

 

Laughing, Cullen batted her hands away. “Hold on a moment,” he said, “I want to look at you.” 

 

Blowing a strand of hair out of her face, Amarantha huffed. “I don’t look any different,” she said, hands sliding down his chest. “Besides, wouldn’t you rather look at  _ all  _ of me?” her cheeky grin almost made him tug the dress off her. But he resisted, instead leaning down to kiss her. 

 

“Oh trust me,” he said, “I intend to take a good,  _ long _ look,” he winked, “But for the moment, I’d simply like to look upon the face of my beautiful wife.” 

 

A twisted, delighted grin spread over Amarantha’s face and she found herself laughing freely as the thought sunk in.  _ I’m his wife _ , she thought,  _ I have a husband.  _ Lifting her hands to rest on his cheeks, Amarantha sobered and gazed with equal awe at Cullen. “Then gaze all you like,  _ husband _ . I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

“Not if I have anything to say about it, no you aren’t,” he agreed, “Perhaps I should use that rope to make certain you  _ don’t _ try to go anywhere.” 

 

Amarantha looked both amused and horrified. “That is a symbol of our union and is not meant to be used for ridiculous…. _ kinky _ bedroom activities!” 

 

Cullen laughed at that, and pressed a kiss to his wife’s lips. “I’m teasing,  _ vhenan _ ,” he assured her. “We will put it somewhere safe.” 

 

“Good,” she said with a curt nod. “Now, stop teasing me and  _ come here _ .” 

 

“With pleasure.” 

 

\----------------------

  
  


Amaryllis eventually made her way to Mia’s room. The woman was sitting on her bed reading, and looked up with a smile when Amaryllis walked in. “I was starting to worry you got lost,” She teased, then sobered when she noticed the strange look on Amaryllis’ face. “Dear, are you alright?” 

 

Amaryllis nodded, then, unable to help herself, she let out a soft giggle. Mia gave her a look.

 

“Oh dear. I know what that giggle means.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“That boy. Cole,” her tone was accusatory, but happy. “Something happened on your way over here, didn’t it.” 

 

“Maybe.” 

 

“Well, you can’t just come into my room all giggly and  _ not _ tell me what happened. Did he kiss you?” 

 

Amaryllis’ eyes widened. “No!” 

 

Mia leaned forward. “Then what?” 

 

Moving to sit on the bed, Amaryllis grinned and began to tell her new friend everything. 

 

Later that evening, after they’d shared stories and laughs, they’d finally fallen asleep. Amaryllis tossed and turned in her sleep, strange visions haunting her rest. 

 

_ She was somewhere strange. It was beautiful, but haunting. She felt sorrow all around her, and it chilled her to the bone. Before her was a path, and curious, she began to follow it. In the distance, she saw two figures standing, both of whom she immediately recognized. Moving off the path, she crept closer, watching the exchange before her.  _

 

_ “The People. They need me.”  _

 

_ The woman lifted her hands to caress Solas’ face, and Amaryllis’ eyes widened as she realized that the woman was Mythal.  _

 

_ Solas was crying, and he grasped her wrist as she held him, leaning into her embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. She cradled him to her, the embrace gentle and intimate, familiar.  _

 

_ “I am sorry as well, old friend,” she replied.  _

 

_ Why were they sorry, Amaryllis thought as she leaned forward to watch the exchange. Why did the People need him? What people?  _

 

_ As she pondered these things, a light burst between the two before her, and Mythal gasped and collapsed. Solas caught her in his arms, and knelt down with her until she was lying on the stone path. The light surrounded them, and the closer Amaryllis looked, the more it seemed to be coming  _ from _ Mythal and into Solas.  _

 

_ Her hand rose to cover her mouth, eyes wide in horror. After several long moments, the light began to die down, and Solas lifted his bowed head, and from his eyes the light shown brightly, engulfing them with the pure energy he’d taken from Mythal.  _

 

_ Horrified, Amaryllis scrambled backwards, trying to get away. So afraid of what she just witnessed, she could not bear to remain where she was. She made it to her feet and ran, tears blurring her vision as she raced away from the path. A sound from behind her caught her attention, and when she turned back, she saw that she was being pursued by a six-eyed wolf.  _

 

With a scream, she woke. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finally finished the THIRD draft of this damn story, so now that it's officially done, I'm going to (try) to increase the posts from here until the end of the year. I don't want to enter 2018 with this story hanging over me. So expect an influx of chapters. We only have 8 plus the epilogue. WOW! 
> 
> Sister Vander is named in honor of one of my absolute dearest friends, who I could and did trust with everything in me. She passed away earlier this year- she was only 29. But I wanted to give her a small role in one of the most important things I've ever written. She didn't play Dragon Age, but she knew about this story, and she was always excited to hear me talk about it. I miss you, V. 
> 
> Next chapter should be up in a couple days.


	49. Ponderings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amaryllis thinks about what to do regarding Solas; Amarantha makes some choices regarding her wedding.

New Chapter 49: Ponderings 

 

Amaryllis remained awake all night. She was thankful that Mia hadn’t woken up. She wasn’t even certain she’d screamed aloud, for which she was grateful. Having to explain everything to Mia would be difficult, and Amaryllis didn’t know if she could do it properly. 

 

But what of that dream? Was it real? She was connected to the Fade and so she was uncertain whether or not it was simply her imagination, or if she’d wandered onto something she wasn’t meant to see. 

 

_ And if if was real… did Solas  _ kill _ Mythal? Has sister been right about him all along?  _ Amaryllis didn’t know what to think. Surely her grandfather wouldn’t kill one of the most beloved gods of their pantheon. 

 

_ But he’s the Dread Wolf. And he locked them away before...  _

 

Fighting back tears, Amaryllis knew she needed to talk to her sister. But she couldn’t bother her now. She would have to wait until morning. Until then, she lay awake, trying to make sense of what she’d seen. 

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

Cullen opened his eyes slowly, groggily, as he took in the strange ceiling above him. There was no hole and so he knew he wasn't in his room. Pulling himself out of his sleep-filled haze, Cullen yawned and rolled onto his side, pausing when he came face to face with Amarantha. 

 

A goofy grin spread over his face as he whispered, “Good morning, wife.” 

 

She giggled and reached out to find his hand. “Good morning husband.”

 

“Sleep well?” He asked, shifting closer so that he could press a kiss to her temple. 

 

She hadn't. A dream of a most troubling nature had woken her up in the middle of the night. It hadn’t been like the others, and what she'd seen had been alarming. But this was her first morning as Cullen’s wife, and she wasn't going to let her dreams distract her for once. So she smiled and hummed in the affirmative. “You?” 

 

“Best sleep I've ever had,” he replied, and it was true. Having her next to him seemed to put him at such ease, the nightmares of the past dare not intrude upon him. He was completely relaxed, all tension gone from him and he rolled into his back, pulling Amarantha on top of him. 

 

“I can't begin to express just how happy I am,” he murmured, running his hand through her hair as the other gripped her around her waist. She smiled and curled against him, nose to his throat. 

 

“I think I have an idea,” she replied, “It's about as happy as I am.” 

 

They lounged for some time, then Cullen dressed and snuck from her room to Josie’s office while Amarantha dressed. She was busy today, an unfortunate result of a secret wedding meant no proper honeymoon, but she didn't mind. Things were working out as they should, and she felt a distinct happiness she couldn't quite contain. 

 

She ate a quick breakfast, then rushed into the council room. It was only Leliana, Cullen, and Josie, and Amarantha felt a small pang at the absence of Cassandra. She couldn’t wait to see her again to tell her of the elopement. Cassandra would be sad to have missed it, but she would relish the tale. Varric would enjoy it too. Dorian would gasp and feign shock at her for doing something so scandalous. She’d have to let Bull know first to further insult him. She smiled sadly at the thought. Oh how she missed her friends! 

 

Her thoughts were eventually turned more practical matters. 

 

“The majority of the Keeps are prepared, save a few small details, and many children have been located and taken to nearby Chantries until it’s time to move them.” 

 

“We have scholars willing to teach them, yes?” 

 

“Absolutely. Many jumped at the chance to remain within the Inquisition, and we recruited several Sisters, as well as a few mages who were part of the rebellion.” 

 

“Isn’t that dangerous?” 

 

“They were nonviolent. We would not put the children at risk of people who sought to hurt them. They’ve all been questioned and interviewed extensively.” 

 

Amarantha beamed as she watched her vision come to life before her eyes. All the pieces were falling into place, and she couldn’t help but feel a shudder of delight slide up her back as she looked at the paperwork and reports that signaled the success of her venture. 

 

Josephine was the one who had seen to most of it, and was due for Amarantha’s unending gratitude. She had helped, naturally, but Josie was a regular puppet master, pulling the appropriate strings at the right time to make the display they were presenting to Thedas a menagerie of splendor and competence. 

 

“Have there been any resistance from children?” Amarantha asked. Cullen cleared his throat and spoke up. 

 

“My soldiers report that some of them were met with initial hesitance, but most were very willing to be taken to the Chantry at the promise of shelter and food.” His face bore a sad countenance, the children who had been orphaned by the war plucking his heartstrings. “The only real resistance we received were from older children who feared being separated from their younger siblings. We are doing everything we can to ensure that does not happen.” 

 

“Will it happen?” Amarantha asked. 

 

“Undoubtedly,” Leliana replied, “But if we are unable to keep them together for whatever reason, we should at least offer information on the other’s whereabouts, and allow- and even encourage- them to write to one another.” 

 

“It would offer comfort, as well as ensure they are learning to read and write,” Josie mused, “A benefit from every angle.” 

 

“And what about when they age out?” Amarantha said, “They can’t stay forever. What preparations have we made to ensure we aren’t just taking in children and throwing out adults?” 

 

“Upon successful completion of the curriculum, as well as good behavior and special interest in a skill or trade, they will receive recommendations from their caretakers and teachers, and will be offered a fair chance at employment. Though, we must be prepared for those who will fail.” 

 

“I know it cannot be avoided,” Amarantha acknowledged, “But I hope we don’t have any who fail.” 

 

“These children will be provided with excellent opportunity,” Cullen stated, “They would be unwise not to take advantage of it.” 

 

“Indeed,” Josie agreed, then she calmly stacked the reports together in a neat pile, then turned with hands on her hips to the Inquisitor and Commander. “Now in other news,” she said, her smile wry and devious, “I need a decision on who will be your bridesmaids for the wedding.” 

 

Amarantha blinked. “My what?” 

 

Josie looked horrified, and passed the look on toward Leliana, who merely glanced away to hide the mirth in her own eyes. 

 

“A bridesmaid is a woman whom the bride relies on the day of her wedding,” Josie says, “There are numerous traditions and superstitions behind it, but today the bride usually asks a few females to walk before her to prepare the way down the aisle.” 

 

“Oh,” Amarantha said, “I didn’t know I needed one.”  

 

“You can have more than one,” Josie explained, “But too many will be seen as garish. Do you have anyone in mind?” 

 

“Well,” she considered, “I suppose my sister and Cassandra.” 

 

“That sounds perfect,” Leliana said with a contented sigh, “I think that would make Cassandra happy.” 

 

“Except, she’ll have to wear a dress,” Josie declared, “And  _ that _ will  _ not _ make her happy.” 

 

“All the more reason to ask her!” Amarantha laughed, then asked, “Are there any other strange, human traditions I should know about?”

 

Leliana nodded. “The bride’s father usually walks her down the aisle.” 

 

“It doesn’t have to be a father,” Josie added quickly, knowing the loss of her family was still fresh, even a few years later, “It could be someone else. Someone you consider family.” 

 

Amarantha thought for a moment. “Is it expected? To be walked down the aisle?” 

 

“Generally,” Cullen answered, “But it’s nothing to trouble yourself over. If there’s no family you want,” he said, giving her a look that hinted strongly at their conversation from a few days prior, “You don’t have to have anyone. If there’s scandal, it’ll die down within a few days.”

 

“No doubt there’s enough scandal amongst the nobles to keep things fresh and new,” Josiephine sighed. “It never ends.” 

 

She glanced at Cullen at that who was looking at her lovingly, and she couldn’t help the fluttering in her heart. She was married! And Josie was right; it might be wise to let them know. In case anyone caught wind or suspected. She gave Cullen a look, and he seemed to understand her silent question. He gave a half-shrug, but his smile hinted that he was more than happy to let them know. 

 

“Well, speaking of scandal,” Cullen remarked, and both Josie and Leliana paled. “Amarantha and I have something to tell you both.” 

 

“Oh Maker,” Josie breathed, eyes slipping shut as she prepared herself for the worst. 

 

“We eloped,” Amarantha said, moving to stand beside Cullen, who wrapped his arm around her waist. “Last night.” 

 

Josie squeaked and Leliana smirked. “I wondered why Sister Vander was late for her nightly prayers. Seems this may be why.” 

 

“I cannot believe you did this!” Josie exclaimed. “You have to tell me what on earth went through your head!” 

 

“Why don’t we take a walk,” Amarantha suggested, “Get some air. And I’ll tell you everything.” 

  
  


\-------------

 

After talking with Josephine, Amarantha went in search for her sister. She had been thinking about her dream, and wondered if she ought to mention it to her sister. Maybe the girl would have some insight into things, as she spent time with Solas in the Fade. But then Amarantha shook her head. She couldn't reveal such troubling things to Rilly. Not while they were still mending from their fight. It wouldn't do to bring up Solas in such a way, even if her sister might have some answers. No. She would have to figure this one out on her own. 

 

Eventually she found her in the garden, idly braiding flowers together in a small crown. She looked distracted, and her eyes were dark and tired. 

 

Concerned, Amarantha moved to sit beside her sister. “You okay?” 

 

Amaryllis jerked her head up. “Oh! I didn’t hear you. Yes. I’m okay.” 

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

Amaryllis hesitated. She wanted to talk to her sister, but she also didn’t know how to begin. Was this how Amarantha had felt, when Solas first left? Bursting to tell the other what had happened but uncertain of how to broach the subject? Suddenly her sister’s hesitancy made more sense. Besides, she’d just gotten married. It might be a secret, but still. Her sister looked happy, and Amaryllis didn’t want to spoil that look on her sister’s face. 

 

Solas could wait a day or so. 

 

“Mia and I just stayed up late talking.” 

 

“Anything interesting?” 

 

“We talked about Cole…” 

 

“Well, well,” Amarantha said with a knowing grin. “I knew it.” 

 

Amaryllis nudged her sister. “Hush. It’s silly.” 

 

“It’s hardly silly,” Amarantha said, winding her arm around the younger girl. “It’s your first love.” At Amaryllis’ sharp look, Amarantha amended. “Or romance. Whatever  you want to call it. I’m happy for you.” 

 

Amaryllis snuggled into her sister’s embrace, wishing more than anything she could tell her what she’d seen. But not now. She’d tell her tomorrow. She’d pull her aside and tell her everything.

 

“I also have to ask you something,” Amarantha said softly, pulling Rilly from her own thoughts. 

 

“Okay.” Amaryllis said, content where she was but forcing herself to give her sister her full attention. 

 

“Well, apparently in the human wedding, there are these things called ‘bridesmaids’,” Amarantha explained, “They are people who are close to the bride, and mean a lot to her, and help her on the day she weds.” 

 

“That sounds nice,” Amaryllis said thoughtfully. 

 

“Well, I was hoping you would be one of them.” Amarantha replied, “If you want. You’ll have to wear a dress, though I think that will make Cassandra mad more than you.” 

 

“I get to be a bridesmaid with Cassandra?!” Amaryllis sat up, and all thoughts of Solas were banished for something much more pleasant.  

 

“Well, if she says yes.” 

 

“I’ll do it,” Amaryllis agreed with a fervent nod, then paused, “Is the dress ugly or something?” 

 

Amarantha laughed, “I’ve no idea!” 

 

“We should go tell Cassandra!” Amaryllis said, standing and bouncing with excitement. “Can we?” 

 

Laughing, Amarantha stood. “Yes, let’s go!” 

 

Amaryllis joined her sister and they raced off to the Inquisitor's quarters, and the crown of flowers lay forgotten at the tree. When they entered the room, Amaryllis flew to the sending crystal and picked it up, calling Cassandra’s name excitedly. There was no answer for a long while, and just as Amaryllis was ready to put the ball down and pout, did the woman in question answer. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Hi,  _ hehran _ Cassandra!” 

 

“Hello, Amaryllis,” Cassandra said affectionately. “How are you?” 

 

“I’m a bridesmaid!” 

 

The response seemed to bewilder Cassandra and she was silent for a long moment before asking, “What?” 

 

Amarantha plucked the crystal out of her sister’s hands and held it up so the smaller girl couldn’t reach it. “You’ll have to excuse my sister,” she said, “There are some days when I think she was raised by wolves.” The remark was made intentionally, and in her shock Cassandra couldn’t help but laugh. 

 

“I suppose that is one way to put it.” 

 

Amarantha hummed in agreement, then continued. “But speaking of bridesmaids,” she said, “I have just learned about them, and their importance in human weddings.” 

 

“Hence your sister, I presume?” 

 

“Yes,” Amarantha said dryly, watching as Amaryllis bounced excitedly before her. “She’s excited.” 

 

“Well, I can hardly blame her,” Cassandra replied, “I’m sure it will be quite an exciting task.” 

 

“One I hope she won’t have to do alone.” 

 

There was a long silence on the other end, then an astounded, “Me?!” 

 

“No, Varric.” 

 

A burst of laughter shot out of Cassandra’s mouth, but she caught herself, and sobered. “You want me to be a bridesmaid?” 

 

“I’m told it’s reserved for people that are close to you.” 

 

Another brief silence, then Cassandra answered slowly, “I would be honored, Amarantha. Thank you.” 

 

“You have to wear a dress!” Amaryllis called out, ruining the moment with her devious laugh. 

 

There was the distinctive sound of Cassandra making a disgusted noise, but she agreed nonetheless. “I’ve done worse things for you, my friend. A dress will not be the end of the world.” 

 

“It might be if you see what Josie and Vivienne are planning.” 

 

Another groan. “Oh Maker take me now.” 

 

“He’s not taking you anywhere until I’m officially married,” Amarantha responded, “I fought one would-be god; I’ll fight another.” 

 

“You’re almost as blasphemous as Varric.” 

 

“Don’t tell Cullen; he might reconsider.” 

 

“Not even the Maker could convince Cullen not to marry you,” Cassandra replied dryly. 

 

Amarantha gasped. “Cassandra! Now you're being blasphemous!” 

 

“Yes,” she mused, “I’ve clearly spent too much time in Varric’s presence.” 

 

“You know you love him.” 

 

A pause. A sigh. “Hush, you.” 

 

“By the way, speaking of weddings-” Amarantha said as she winked at her sister...

 

\----------------

 

Once finished with Cassandra- who had shrieked and demanded to know  _ everything  _ about the elopement- Amaryllis left to go see Cole. She had decided to see if he knew anything about what she’d seen in the Fade. And she just wanted to see him. It was nice, knowing he cared about her as more than a friend, and she hoped that maybe that comfort and his knowledge might help her make sense of things before she approached her sister. 

 

Meanwhile Amarantha sat on her bed, Dorian’s sending crystal before her. She rested her chin in her hand, fingers tapping idly against her cheek as she thought. She wasn’t certain if it was appropriate, or if Dorian would be interested, but she knew the only way she would know was if she asked. With a sigh she nervously picked up the crystal and called out Dorian’s name. 

 

A moment later he answered, quickly asking her to ‘hold on’. Distantly she could hear him speak to someone else, and she felt bad for intruding. 

 

“I can try again later, if I need to,” she said quickly. 

 

“Oh, no,” Dorian said, voice coming in clearer, “I’m just talking with Bull.” 

 

An idea formed. “Oh? Where is he?” 

 

“Where are you?” She heard Dorian ask distantly. There was a muttered response before Dorian spoke into her crystal. “He’s in his quarters.” 

 

“Tell him to make sure he has pants on. I’m coming over.” 

 

With that she dropped the crystal and slipped out of her room. A few minutes later she was in front of Bull’s door on the upper level of the Herald’s Rest, and she lifted her hand to knock, gesture halted in midair when Bull swung the door open. “Petal!”

 

“Mind if I cut in?” 

 

“Not at all,” he said, stepping aside so she could enter. Bull’s room was threadbare, a testament to his long days of travel and not having a place to call home. She understood the lack of decor. Decor was frivolous, unneeded when home was the road and the only color and vibrancy necessary was with the people with whom she was surrounded. Old habits seemed hard for many of them to shake. 

 

“So, you need to talk to Dorian?” 

 

“Yes, but I didn’t want to prevent you two from talking either.” 

 

“Oh please,” Dorian said through the crystal, “I talk to this lumox all the time. Between him and Calpernia, I could use some diverse conversation.” 

 

“Hey now, I can get diverse if that’s what you’re into these days.” 

 

“Hush, Bull!” Dorian chided, “There are innocent ears present.” 

 

“I’m not  _ that _ innocent, Dorian.” 

 

“Oh! You’re going to have to give me details on that front,” he said, “To think we’ve never shared our encounters before. What a poor friendship we have maintained!” 

 

Giggling, Amarantha moved to sit on Bull’s bed, gesturing for him to join her. “Well, speaking of friendship,” she said, tone getting serious, “That’s actually why I’m here.” 

 

“Oh dear,” Dorian groaned, “This is going to be one of those sentimental moments, isn’t it?” 

 

“Only if you want it to be,” Amarantha said, knowing Dorian wasn’t comfortable expressing emotions and choosing to keep this as light as possible. “I actually have a favor to ask of you.” 

 

“I live to serve, my dear Inquisitor.” 

 

“Well,” Amarantha said, glancing up at Bull as if she expected some form of support from him, despite his having no idea why she was here. “I’m learning a lot about human weddings, and….well… I’ve recently been told that it’s traditional for the bride’s father to walk her down the aisle. Obviously I….don’t have that option anymore, but it was  mentioned that it didn’t have to be a father, that it could be someone who meant a lot to me, and so I was wondering if you would be willing to walk me down the aisle.”

 

There was a drawn out silence, similar to Cassandra’s reaction. Amarantha wondered if it really was so surprising just how much her friends meant to her, and vowed that she would make sure everyone knew just how deep her affections for her companions lay. 

 

She decided to give him an out. “This is only if you want, that is. Please know that you don’t have to.” 

 

“ _ Of course _ I have to,” Dorian said passionately, “This is an incredibly important thing you’re asking of me. I would be  _ honored _ to walk with you, Petal.” 

 

She wasn’t aware of her own tears until Bull handed her a handkerchief, his own lips spread wide in a toothy grin. “Thank you, Dorian.” 

 

There was a sniffle, then a laugh, then, “Yes, well, we have to show these poor Orlesians how it’s done. You’ll have to have Josie send me sketches of your gown so I can make sure I have something designed that will compliment it. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this  _ right _ .” 

 

“Careful, Vint, you’re not the one getting married. Can’t upstage the bride,” Bull said with gruff affection.

 

“By all means,  _ please _ upstage me,” Amarantha interrupted quickly. “Please!” 

 

Dorian laughed at that. “It’s what I do best, I’m afraid.” 

 

“I thought arguing circles around stuffy old magisters was what you did best,” Bull retorted. 

 

“One can excel in multiple areas of life, Amatus.” 

 

“And Dorian, you excel at them all,” Amarantha said, sliding off the bed. “But I’ll say goodnight. And thank you again, Dorian. I appreciate it.” 

 

“Yes, yes, I know you do my dear girl. Now off to bed with you. You need your beauty sleep.” 

 

“Yes, sir.” 

 

She patted Bull’s shoulder, and turned to let herself out. As she reached the door, she heard Bull mumble something to Dorian, then call out to her. “Boss.” 

 

Amarantha turned, startling when Bull was but a few steps away. For such a large man, he was disturbingly stealthy at times. “I’m sure you know but, that meant a lot to Dorian. Means a lot to me, too.” 

 

“I know it’s not the same,” Amarantha said, “But I love Dorian very much. And I don’t know. When they mentioned someone close to me walking me down the aisle, I couldn’t picture anyone but him.” 

 

“He’s a good man, despite what he wants people to think.” 

 

Amarantha nodded. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

 

Bull laughed heartily at that. “No worries here, Boss.” 

 

She smiled at that, then handed back the handkerchief she’d been holding on to. Bull took it without comment and nodded to her once more before returning to the bed. Amarantha let herself out, thinking that perhaps the human wedding wouldn’t be quite so bad after all. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a schedule for the remaining chapters. Assuming nothing gets in my way, I'm going to post Monday's, Wednesday's, and Friday's until the end of the year. The last three chapters will be posted December 29, 30, and 31. Ending the year and the story seems like a good way to go.


	50. A Wolf's Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sometimes I think I hate him too."

New Chapter 50: A Wolf’s Weakness 

 

Cole hadn’t helped. 

 

His presence had been comforting, but he’d been unable to help Amaryllis decipher her dream. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he’d said, apologetic as he held her hand. “I’m still attached to the Fade, but not like I was. And Solas has been…” 

 

“Evasive?” Amaryllis supplied. Cole nodded grimly. 

 

“You should talk to your sister,” Cole suggested, “She might be able to help you figure it out.” 

 

“You’re right,” Amaryllis agreed. “I’m just afraid of what this means.” 

 

\-----------------------------

“I need to talk to you.” 

 

Amarantha looked up from her work to see her sister standing before her, looking demure and uncertain. 

 

Tossing aside her pen, Amarantha stood and approached her sister. “Of course. What’s wrong?” 

 

Amaryllis shook her head. Her sister had gone to the Herald’s Rest for a change in scenery as she wrote some letters. But there were too many people around and Amaryllis couldn’t bring up Solas without drawing in eavesdroppers. “Alone.” 

 

Suddenly worried, Amarantha gathered her papers and walked to the bar, asking Cabot if he could hold them in the back for her. “It’s wedding nonsense,” she assured him, “Nothing anyone would care about.” 

 

Cabot agreed and took the papers from her, then the sisters headed out. Amaryllis walked without any real direction, leading them up the steps and onto the battlements overlooking Skyhold. They made their way to a secluded area on the opposite end where few people traversed, and when she reached the end Amaryllis rounded to face her sister. 

 

“I saw Solas,” she announced, not allowing herself time to dwell on how to broach the topic. 

 

Amarantha took a moment, studying her sister. Finally she nodded. “Okay.” 

 

“In the Fade. It’s so fuzzy and strange. I didn’t realize I was in the Fade- maybe I wasn’t. I don’t know. It felt like reliving a memory. I can’t make sense of it.” 

 

“So it wasn't Cole that had you bothered yesterday. It was Solas.” Dread filled her heart. What had her sister seen?

 

“I didn’t want to make you sad the day after you got married.” 

 

Amarantha sat and leaned against the stone and motioned for her sister to join her. “You don’t have to worry about making me sad. Regardless of what just happened. And you can always talk to me about Solas.” She paused, “I know I’ve not been his biggest fan lately but I know you love him. And I love you. And if you want to talk about him-” 

 

“I think he killed Mythal.” 

 

Amarantha stopped short. Her heart sank.  _ No… _ “What?” 

 

Amaryllis pulled both knees up and rested her chin on them. “I saw it,” she whispered, troubled. “He was talking to her. Mythal. Or, I guess the lady that Mythal’s spirit lives in. And they were holding each other and they apologized to each other and then this light shone around them and she collapsed and didn’t move anymore. Solas absorbed the light. And then I ran away and made myself wake up.” 

 

Tears began to well in her eyes as she continued. “I don’t want him to be bad. He was always good to me. He loved me. I love him. I don’t understand what he’s doing, but it hurts!” 

 

In stunned silence, Amarantha pulled Amaryllis to her and held her tightly. Stroking her hair absently, she tried to stay calm. Her sister has seen the same thing she had.  _ What does this mean _ ? 

 

“Rilly?” She whispered softly. Amaryllis made a small sound to indicate she was listening. “I saw the same thing.” 

 

Amaryllis stilled, then after a moment pulled away. “What?” She wiped her nose. 

 

“The night I eloped,” Amarantha explained, “I had a dream. I've been dreaming a lot lately. But it was always wolves; nothing of note. But that night… I saw Solas. And I saw what he did to Mythal.” 

 

Rilly sniffled. “He's bad...isn't he? He's doing something bad!”

 

“I don't know,” Amarantha said, blinking away tears. “But I’m so sorry, dear heart,” she whispered to her sister as she pulled her back to her chest. “I’m sorry he’s hurt you again.” 

 

“But you were  _ right _ ,” Amaryllis cried, finally allowing herself to express the sorrow she felt. She knew Cole could sense her pain, but she’d also wanted to keep it buried and was grateful that he hadn’t commented upon it. But she wanted her sister to know. Wanted her sister to know how upset she was. 

 

She’d been wrong. 

 

“You were right,” she said again, “And it’s not fair!” 

 

“Shhh,” Amarantha cooed, rocking her sister. “It’s not. It’s not fair. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” 

 

Amaryllis cried, angry, confused, and uncertain. “Why did he leave? Why would he hurt Mythal? Why?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Amarantha whispered, “I wish I did. I’m trying to figure it out. But the voices aren’t offering anything and I can’t seem to find what pieces it all together.” 

 

Amaryllis sniffed. “I was wrong about him. And that’s what makes me the most angry.” 

 

Amarantha winced. She still despised Solas for what he’d done, but she’d made the conscious choice to lure him back with a sense of forgiveness. Make him think that she’d slowly, in the months that passed, softened her heart and in a desperate attempt to connect with the only remaining part of her grandmother, reach out to him. But it’d been  _ her _ plan. She’d been content to let Rilly love Solas, be ignorant of her deception, lest the girl ask, and deal with Solas as a matter of the Inquisition, rather than a familial matter. 

 

But now Solas had gone too far. He’d taken the unwavering trust and devotion that Amaryllis had held for him and unknowingly shattered it. Whatever he was doing couldn’t be good, and the realization dawned on Amarantha that she may have to actually take her grandfather down, if it came to it. 

 

Sighing, she began running her fingers through her sister’s hair. It was longer now, brushing her shoulder blades. “I’m sorry that he’s done this to you,” she whispered, “I take no joy in this. I’d much rather you have been right and me be wrong. But, I think we both understand that is not the case.” 

 

Weakly, Amaryllis shook her head. “He killed her. I watched her die.” 

 

Amarantha studied her sister. She was so brave, so strong, but deep down she was still just a young girl who'd been forced into a war beyond comprehension. She'd volunteered to fight, and had handled herself well, but death had been their closest companion in recent years, and the poor girl was not used to seeing so much pain and suffering. Amarantha wished she could take away that pain, take away the pain Corypheus and Solas and others had caused. But she couldn't. Amaryllis’ heart lay between them, shattered in pieces, and there was no way she would ever be fully whole again. 

 

Amarantha's heart lay mingled with hers, equally broken for all they had endured. There was more yet to endure, but perhaps, she thought suddenly, this time they could face it head on, together. 

 

“Sister, I’m going to ask you to help me. If you say no, then I completely understand.” 

 

“Help you do what?” 

 

“Stop Solas.” 

 

Amaryllis blinked. “Stop….” 

 

“I’m not going to kill him,” Amarantha assured her, then added weakly, “At least, I hope it doesn’t come to that. But. I know you. You want to save him. I want to stop him. I think our desires may have finally aligned regarding our grandfather.” 

 

“How do we stop him if we don’t know what he’s doing?” 

 

“We get him to tell us.” 

 

Amaryllis blinked. “How do we do that?” 

 

“By loving him.” 

 

“But you-” 

 

“I'm getting married soon,” Amarantha interrupted, wanting to make her point clear. “And with all the talk of family and traditions, maybe I've come to realize that perhaps I shouldn't push away the only other link I have left of my dearest grandmother.” 

 

“You ask for reconciliation,” Amaryllis deducted. Her sister nodded. 

 

“But what about me? What I saw-” 

 

“You saw nothing.” 

 

“I lie,” Amaryllis reasoned, “I make him think we don’t know anything.”

 

“As far as he's concerned, you never saw him with Mythal. You are still unwaveringly devoted to his innocence.” 

 

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she admitted, softly. “He… scares me.” 

 

Amarantha gave her a sad smile. “You don't have to help me. I won't put you in a position that makes you uncomfortable. But I will tell you that if you suddenly stop going to him, suddenly show fear, he will wonder what happened. And he’ll become suspicious of why you suddenly want nothing to do with him after being so adamant about never letting him go.” 

 

Amaryllis frowned. “That's true.”

 

“I learned a human saying. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’” 

 

“Is Solas our enemy?” Her eyes were wide with worry. 

 

“Not yet,” Amarantha shook her head. “But we need to lure him into a sense of comfort. A sense of trust. And it will take time for him not to be suspicious of me. But he is well aware you love him. 

 

“I do,” Amaryllis agreed slowly, “Even still.”

 

“And so you’ll use that love. We both want to stop him. You because you simply want him back; me because I think he’s messing with something dangerous and I want answers. I think now we can work together.” 

 

“By playing dumb.” 

 

“And by using his weakness against him.” 

 

“Does the Dread Wolf have a weakness?” Amaryllis asked, tilting her head curiously. 

 

“The Dread Wolf doesn’t,” Amarantha shook her head, “But I think Grandfather Solas might.” 

 

Amaryllis considered for a moment. “Us.” 

 

“Us. He regrets leaving Grandmamae. He never met Mamae. We use that. However difficult it might be. We use that desire for connection.” 

 

“So what do we do first?” 

 

“Well, first, I go tell Cullen and Leliana what’s going on. They need to be aware. But I’m going to make sure I get them alone. I don’t want anyone to overhear. You, on the other hand, are going to go into the Fade and look for him. Be loud and let him know you’re coming.” 

 

“I’ll tell him I miss him and want to see him. It’s not a lie. Not really.” 

 

“Mention the wedding. Tell him the date is set and details are being finalized. Tell him that I don’t think it wise if he shows up in all his splendor, but that I still wouldn’t mind seeing him. It’s a very important day for me, afterall.” 

 

Despite herself, Amaryllis snorted. “Uh huh.” 

 

Amarantha gave her sister a look. “Oh, hush. But, plant seeds that I might desire reconciliation. That I’ve mentioned to you more than once conversations he and I had. That you’ve caught me crying more than once but I won’t tell you why.” 

 

“To make him think it’s because you miss him.” 

 

“Exactly. We were very close. And anger sometimes turns to sorrow. Make him believe I'm grieving that lost relationship.” 

 

“Do you miss it?” Amaryllis asked, wondering if her sister still truly hated Solas, or if there were any seeds of love still remaining. 

 

Amarantha signed. “More than I care to admit. I admired him so much,” she looked away, recalling all the times he'd shared wisdom with her. “That's why it hurts so much. I thought I could trust him, but he lied. No, more than that…” 

 

“Sometimes I think I hate him too,” Amaryllis whispered sorrowfully, “Because I wish we could have been enough.” 

 

“Maybe someday we can be,” Amarantha considered, “But for now, we have to be careful and cautious. We don't know him, not truly. Who knows what he's planning.” 

 

“I don't want to lie to him,” Amaryllis signed wearily. “But if he's doing something wrong…”

 

“Then we’re doing the right thing by trying to figure out what that is. If he’s not doing anything bad, well,” Amarantha shrugged, “I guess we’ll just tell him we learned it all from him.”

 

\-----------------------------

 

She spoke to Cullen and Leliana privately, under the pretense of needing to see them for New Haven business. She spoke softly, carefully, and admitted she was afraid that Solas could pop in at any time and hear her. “He’s making me paranoid,” Amarantha sighed, rubbing her temple. 

 

“Nonsense,” Leliana remarked, “You’re being sensible. He’s unpredictable. We have to be careful. Especially if what you and your sister saw was accurate.” 

 

Cullen merely looked tired. “This man is getting on my last nerve,” he murmured, “I’ve a mind to just hunt him down and-” 

 

“Careful, dear. If it comes to it, I’m first in line to take him out.” 

 

Cullen sobered. “Yes, you’re right. I suppose I’m just angry on your behalf.” 

 

“I’m angry on Rilly’s behalf,” Amarantha agreed. “Solas keeps finding ways to hurt her. Eventually I’m going to run out of patience and just snap his neck and be done with it.” 

 

“Might save us all some trouble,” Cullen remarked dryly. 

 

Lelina merely smiled. “In the meantime, I would talk to the Iron Bull. Make sure he keeps an eye out.” 

 

“Good idea,” Amarantha agreed. “I’ll go talk to him.” 

 

She pulled Bull aside in the Herald’s Rest, telling him she had news from Dorian. Bull was disappointed she had no news on that front, but was satisfied with her request to keep a look out for anything suspicious. 

 

“You got it, Boss,” he’d saluted her, and Amarantha took a deep breath, and felt a little better about it all. 

 

_ Whatever you're doing Solas,”  _ she vowed quietly,  _ I will stop it.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever closer to the end....


	51. Come Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions and meetings abound as the wedding nears.

Chapter 51: Coming Together 

 

_ Nine Weeks Later  _

 

Skyhold was abuzz. Leliana had been inaugurated as Divine not long ago and was already setting the world of Thedas ablaze with her visions of the future. The Inquisition had also formally dissolved and had launched its New Haven initiative, working with the Chantry and other organizations to help the children and families who had been left orphaned and desolate from the war against Corypheus. The children were beginning to arrive to Skyhold and the other fortresses, and everyone was staying busy with the madness and chaos of the changes. 

 

Amaryllis and Mia had become staples at the Skyhold campus, as the two used their cheer and good humor to bring smiles to children’s faces. Amaryllis was astute with the few elven children that had come to Skyhold, as well as the children who had seen her showing off her mage abilities and approaching her shyly to whisper to her that they too had started developing powers. 

 

Amaryllis understood the importance of a strong support system as she’d begun- and continued still- to develop her powers and so she gathered the little ones to her and told them stories about a wise older elf who had taught her so much, and used those same techniques to begin helping those who came to her begin to wield their own varying forms of magic. No matter what he’d done or was doing, Solas had been a fantastic mentor, and she was determined to be as good a mentor to these young children as he’d been to her. 

 

Mia found her niche with the older children, teaching them to read, write, and find work around Skyhold that suited their interests. She acted as a surrogate mother to many of them, holding them as they cried at night, trying to adjust to their new life. 

 

Reports from the other encampments expressed similar results: children adjusting, but doing well, and thanking the former Inquisition for having the forethought to think of the innocent lives left behind from the war, and working to make certain they weren’t lost in the aftermath 

 

On top of all that, the wedding of the former Inquisitor and her Commander was the talk of the people. The wedding had drawn much speculation and fervor, now that the war was over and people could concentrate on something positive. Rumors abounded about everything from the dress to whether or not one of them would be jilted, to whether it would be a Dalish or Chantry wedding. Josephine kept everything hush-hush to further intrigue, and while it was amusing, it was also tiring. 

 

The exciting part for Amarantha, and what drew her focus from Solas and his doings was the fact that Sorolan was due to arrive any day now, as were the rest of the Rutherford siblings. Amarantha was delighted by the former- she’d made the decision to give him the books she’d written so that he might present them at the next  _ Arlavathan _ . She hoped he took her tale seriously. 

 

But the siblings; that was another worry altogether. Amarantha already loved Mia, who was like a second sister. But she worried that the rest of Cullen’s family may not like her. She hoped they would, but knew only time would tell. 

 

In the meantime, she stayed busy, frequently calling Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian to talk and hear about their lives. All were coming to Skyhold two weeks before the wedding and they would all travel to Val Royeaux together. It was a reunion Amarantha couldn’t wait for. She smiled as she recalled Cassandra’s response to her elopement to Cullen. 

 

“ _ YOU DID WHAT?!”  _

 

They’d gushed and laughed and swooned for an hour after that, Cassandra soaking up every single word. It was good to speak of such pleasant things; no mention of Solas darkened their conversation, though Amarantha knew it was only a matter of time before she would have to tell the others. 

 

\--------------------------------

 

Three days later Sorolan arrived. He was greeted with great excitement by Amaryllis, who launched herself into his arms with delight. Sorolan hugged her close, commenting on how she’d grown since he’d last seen her. Amaryllis blushed. “Everyone grows up, sir,” she said sheepishly.    
  


“Yes, but not quite so gracefully as you,” he said, looking as if the burden he bore was not so great these days. It was true, being the Keeper to an all but eliminated clan had been difficult, but he had managed, and the position of leadership and authority suited him. 

 

His reunion with Amarantha was more quiet, but no less enthusiastic. “I’m so glad to see you,” Amarantha whispered as she hugged her long-time friend. Sorolan held her tight. 

 

“I am pleased to see you again, under more favorable conditions,” he said with a sly grin. “It has been too long.” 

 

“Indeed,” Amarantha said, pausing before adding, “I was worried that you might say no when you read my invitation.” 

 

Sorolan’s brow furrowed, “Why would I do that?” 

 

At her look, the one that plainly said  _ you know as well as I _ , Sorolan relented. “The rest of the clan is not…. _ entirely _ pleased,” he admitted, “Though we all understand your place is here. After all that has happened, we are grateful that you are in such a position of authority. You have already helped the Dalish more than you know. I will tell you,” and here Sorolan paused to laugh, “That some elders of the clan with whom we are staying suggested that I seek your hand in an attempt to keep our clan pure and ongoing.” 

 

Amarantha blinked. “And what did you say?” 

 

“I told them no.”

 

Slight relief rushed through her at that. “And they said?” 

 

“Not much, which, you know, is just as bad.” 

 

“I’m sorry I’m causing you so much trouble, then,” she said genuinely. Sorolan waved his hand. 

 

“I am not worried about what they think. And I do not know your man hardly at all, but I know that you would not choose him were he unworthy.” 

 

“Most Keepers would probably drag me home by my ear for this.” 

 

Sorolan nodded. “Perhaps. But I trust your judgment, Inquisitor,” he said her title purposely, “And I know that your Grandmother would be more than pleased by this as well.” 

 

Normally the thought of her grandmother would leave her smiling, but with all the secrecy and lies that had been revealed to surround the woman, and most especially her lover, Amarantha could barely force the reaction to come forth. But she pushed away her sorrow, and reached out to take Sorolan’s hands, a true smile growing. 

 

“I may disappoint them in terms of my husband,” she said, “But I think I know a way to make up for that. Follow me. I certainly wanted you to attend my wedding,” she said, “But  _ this _ is the real reason I asked you to come so early.” 

 

Intrigued, Sorolan followed wordlessly. 

 

\-------------------

 

“Amarantha, this is  _ incredible!” _

 

Sorolan sat at the Inquisitor’s desk, reading over the books she’d scribbled in over the past months. He looked up, eyes wide. “You really gained all this information from the Well of Sorrows?” 

 

She nodded. “Yes.” 

 

He glanced back down to the open text in his lap. “I cannot even begin to imagine-” he paused a moment. “There is so much knowledge here! So much history. We were wrong about…” he swallowed and glanced at his friend in slight amusement, “So many things.” 

 

“I still hear things, on occasion,” she admitted, “But I have a handle on the voices now, I think. They are quiet until I call upon them.” 

 

“To have all that history, all that knowledge in your mind,” Sorolan whispered, hand trailing over the words that his people had so long sought after- “It must be quite the burden, even as it is a gift.” 

 

“You weren’t even there and yet you seem to understand it better than most,” she replied with slight disbelief. “Not even Rilly knows what to make of my new ability.” 

 

“It is incredible, I will say that,” he said, closing the book and standing, “What are you going to do with this knowledge, my friend?” 

 

Moving to lean against the desk, Amarantha nodded to the book. “It certainly does me no good here on my desk,” she said lightly, “It’s all in my head, anyway. I think you should take it.” 

 

“The council would be better equipped to protect this,” he whispered even as he clutched the book tighter. 

 

“Maybe,” Amarnatha agreed, “But I’m entrusting it to you. My clan is important to me;  _ you _ are important. And as the leader of the Inquisition and now New Haven, I have made the choice to extend as much help to the Dalish as I possibly can. I will not forsake my people simply because I now live amongst men.” 

 

“The Dalish can never repay you for this,” he whispered, “I’d wager some might even lift you up as a deity for restoring so much of what was lost to us. You will be named holy.” 

 

Images of Solas flashed in her mind, and she held back a growl. “I’ve no need for god-hood,” she grimaced, “I simply want to help my people. And I’ve done so. Their protection of my work and their own vows to spread this knowledge is all I would seek in return.” 

 

“Yes, but you know us,” he laughed, “I fear you may not have a choice in the matter.” 

 

“The Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, and what? Lady Who Hears Voices in Her Head?” Amarantha laughed, “I think they might throw me in an asylum.”

 

“Well, I’d call you the Goddess of Restoration, but I have a feeling you’ll use that mark on me should I dare suggest it.” 

 

“You’re damn right,” Amarantha said with a playful smile. Taking the book from him and placing it on her desk with the others, she motioned him with her. “I’ll see to it that they’re packed and ready for you when you leave,” she said ,”There isn’t much and most of it is scattered, but-” 

 

“But it’s more than we’ve had in years,” Sorolan finished, turning to take Amarantha’s hands in his, “You have done your family, and your clan, proud, da’len.” 

 

Pulling her hands away, Amarantha wrapped her arms around Sorolan’s neck. “Thank you,” she whispered. “That means more to me than you know.” 

 

\-----------------------------------

  
  


A few days later, Amarantha, Amaryllis, Mia, and Cullen stood at the gates, waiting with varying amounts of eagerness and nervousness for the Rutherford siblings to arrive. Amaryllis was rocking on the balls of her feet, eager to meet the people who were about to become family. It was strange, if she allowed herself to dwell on it for long, that her family no longer consisted of her clan. She would always miss her clan, and her people meant a great deal to her; they always would. But she’d gone through a war with the Inquisition, had grown in numerous ways with these people teaching her, loving her. The mismatched menagerie of people that made up the Inquisition were now her family: the humans from varying backgrounds, other elves, dwarves, even a Qunari had become someone whom Amaryllis cherished and loved dearly, despite having heard only scarce things about them in her life, and none of them particularly positive. Now her sister was marrying a human, and she was gaining new siblings, in a sense. 

 

She couldn’t help but consider Cullen a father figure, but she thought of Mia like another big sister, though Mia seemed more inclined to tease Amarantha than her, which Amaryllis appreciated. Being the younger sibling, as well as the youngest member of the former Inquisition often left her subjected to the most teasing. She didn’t mind at times, but now that she was older, a proper teenager according to the humans, she hoped the teasing would soon end. 

 

Especially as it pertained to Cole. 

 

Flushing at that thought, Amaryllis quickly brushed thoughts of Cole aside.

 

In the distance, a carriage came into view and Mia clapped her hands together excitedly, breaking Amaryllis out of her thoughts. “Oh there they are!” She said, her curly hair bouncing as she moved forward. Cullen smiled affectionately after his older sister and reached out to take her arm. 

 

“They’ll be here in a moment,” he said, “You’ve always been far too impatient.” 

 

Mia made a face at her younger brother and turned to watch the carriage as it moved closer. Slowly it crossed the bridge that led into Skyhold and when it came to a stop a young girl bounded out of the carriage and straight into Cullen’s awaiting embrace. “Big brother!” 

 

Cullen laughed as he held the girl close. Where Mia was curvy and of average height, the youngest Rutherford sibling had inherited their father’s height and stood at eye level with her brother, which only made her look even thinner. Her face was young looking, and while Amaryllis recalled that Cullen said his little sister was only twenty-three, she looked as if she were still a teenager nearing her eighteenth birthday. She held tight to Cullen who buried his face in her hair and sighed in contentment. It had been a long time since the Rutherfords had been together. 

 

“Oh, let him go, Rosalie,” a burly voice said from behind them, “He’s not that special.” 

 

Cullen looked to his younger brother, though based on his size, it seemed as if Cullen might be the younger one. Branson stood a head taller than his brother, and if it weren’t for the same distinct nose and curly hair, Amaryllis would have assumed the two men shared no relation. She was so used to looking so similar to her sister, that when siblings seemed to share few physical characteristics, it was somewhat jarring. 

 

“Yes, nice to see you too, Bran. Where’s my nephew?” 

 

“Yeah, I figured you’d rather see him,” Bran said as a pair of hands held out the boy in question to Branson. The child laughed in delight, calling out, “Uncle Cull!” Branson placed the boy on the ground, and the child ran toward his uncle, who knelt down to scoop him up in his arms. 

 

“Why, look at you, Beau!” Cullen declared as he studied the child in his arms, “Growing into a strong young man. We’ll make a warrior out of you yet.” 

 

“Oh no you won’t.” A woman with red hair wrapped around her head in a braided crown stepped out of the carriage with the assistance of Bran and gave Cullen a stern but loving look. “My son is going to be a scholar, not a fighter.” 

 

Cullen laughed sheepishly, “Yes, ma’am.” He turned to Beau. “Well, looks like no swordplay for you, my fine friend.” 

 

Beau pouted. “I want to fight like you,” he whispered. 

 

The red-headed woman shook her head as she approached the others. She looked directly at Amarantha and rolled her eyes in playful exasperation. “Men. Thankfully they have us to be the sensible ones.” She stuck her hand out, rough from a life of hard work, but well maintained. “I’m Laurel Rutherford. And you must be our dear savior, the Inquisitor.” 

 

“Not Inquisitor anymore,” Amarantha said, grateful to be able to say that. “Officially I’m now Lady Lavellan. But please, “ she said, taking the woman’s hand, “Call me Amarantha.” She gestured to her sister beside her, “And this is my sister, Amaryllis.” 

 

Amaryllis tipped her head respectfully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

 

Laurel looked appreciatively at the young girl. “A pleasure.” She then turned to the others. “Well?” 

 

Knowing what his sister-in-law wanted, Cullen cleared his throat and made introductions. When everyone was introduced Amarantha called for servants to see that the Rutherford’s belongings were taken to their rooms, and a tour of Skyhold was offered. 

 

“Oh yes!” Rosalie exclaimed, “I’ve wanted to see this place for so long! It’s so exciting to be here!” 

 

“Indeed it is,” Laurel agreed as she followed arm in arm with Branson, Baeu walking next to her and eyeing the place with curiosity as people bustled to and fro. 

 

“Well, we’re glad you like it so far,” Cullen said as he motioned for Amaranth to lead the way. “Lady Lavellan has worked hard to see that this is a place of refuge and solace.” 

 

Amarantha felt herself blush at Cullen’s unexpected praise. “I only did what was necessary, I assure you,” she said as she glanced back to her new family.

 

She felt Cullen’s arm wrap around the small of her back as he balanced a toddler in the other. “You’re too modest,” he teased, then glanced back to his siblings, “Let me introduce you to some of my men. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see some new faces.” 

 

The Cullen’s met with the soldiers, then moved on to varying Inquisition members. Several were gone by now so the party was significantly smaller, a fact that left Amarantha’s heart broken, but she held onto the joy that she would see them again soon. 

 

She bit her lip to suppress a smile. She was getting married. Again. Cullen’s family was here, and now all that was left was for her friends to arrive so they could make their way to Val Royeaux. Feeling a fluttering in her stomach, she glanced over at Cullen who was watching her with a look of love that mimicked her own feelings. 

 

Later, the group dined in the Herald’s Rest, and Amarantha got to know her new family well. Laurel was sensible and level-headed, a perfect match for Branson, who seemed like a tough but loveable young man. He worked hard on his family’s farm, as did Rosalie, who shared many of her sister’s flamboyant and jovial traits. The sisters rejoiced at being reunited, and it brought to mind Amarantha’s own relationship with her sister. 

 

They had undoubtedly had their troubles, but they were much better. Solas had briefly torn them apart, but he'd also managed to help bring them back together. As Rosalie and Mia talked and laughed and gossiped together, she watched as Laurel questioned Cullen on some of the goings on with his men. Amarantha was content to merely listen until a question was directed at her, and spent a moment watching as Branson tried to get his son to eat some bread and cheese, but the boy was too enamored with the sights and sounds to focus on his meal. 

 

Eventually Rosalie asked how the couple came to fall in love, and Cullen turned to Amarantha, to allow her to tell the tale. She did, recalling how she had kissed him as she marched toward certain death. How thoughts of Cullen had kept her going. How she grew to love chess- earning a large grin from Mia- while playing with him. How she appreciated his devotion to her sister after they lost their family. How she had never met anyone more caring and kind than Cullen. 

 

Branson scoffed. “You got all that from  _ him? _ Now I know you're an intelligent woman, but  _ please _ ! You're telling me you were wooed by this idiot?” 

 

Laurel slapped her husband and Rosalie sighed. “It's all so sweet though! It's like you were meant to be! Oh, I can't wait for the wedding!!” 

 

“It is quite a tale,” Laurel agreed. “I imagine one day we’ll be singing songs to our grandchildren about the romance between the Inquisitor and her Commander.” She paused and grinned. “It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?” 

 

Amarantha nodded, and it was at that moment she understood that she was a member of the Rutherford family. They had accepted her with no fuss, and she was suddenly overwhelmed at how blessed she was, in spite of it all. 

 

\-----------------------------------

 

“ _ Cassandra!”  _

 

_ “Amarantha!”  _

 

The two women collided in a hard but joyous hug, unaware of those who were watching their ridiculous display. Varric stepped out of the carriage a moment later, laughing at the two of them. 

 

“She has been talking about this moment for  _ ages _ .” 

 

After a moment, Amarantha broke away from Cassandra to grab Varric and hug him tightly as well. He laughed and took her in his arms, squeezing tight. It was strange, he thought, but suddenly this place felt like home. 

 

Amaryllis had latched onto Cassandra, and then they switched back, so the younger one could hug Varric. “Oh now this isn’t fair! You’re even taller!” He whined when Amaryllis stood over him. She laughed. 

 

“Sorry.” 

 

“I thought Dorian was supposed to arrive too?” Varric asked as he looked around. 

 

“Oh, he arrived yesterday,” Amarantha said with a smirk. “As a surprise. I think I saw him for a grand total of eight minutes before Bull carried him off. I haven’t seen him since.” 

 

Cassandra grinned. “It is good that they are together once more,” she said, “Varric and I have spent some time apart while I assisted Leliana, but even with a brief absence, it was not easy.” 

 

“Yeah, can’t imagine how rough it must be fore them,” Varric agreed as the group made their way inside. 

 

“Well, we can ask them later.” 

 

“Once Bull unties Dorian,” Amaryllis remarked, earning a shocked gasp from her sister who covered her ears. 

 

“You’re too young to know of such things! I didn’t hear my sister say that! No, no, no!” 

 

Dorian and Bull  _ did  _ emerge sometime later, and there was a small banquet for the Rutherfords, Sorolan, and the Inner Circle who had returned to the newly-dubbed New Haven. 

 

“It’s gonna take some work getting used to that name,” Varric admitted, “I keep calling it Skyhold and Inquisition in my letters. Gonna confuse a lot of people.” 

 

“It’s definitely confusing,” Amarantha agreed, “But necessary.” 

 

“Sure,” Varric agreed. “So, how’s everyone? I noticed some familiar faces are missing. Lots of new ones too.” 

 

“Well, Sera is off with the Red Jennies,” Amarantha explained, “Vivienne is back and forth to Val Royeaux, Blackwall is off doing work to help the Grey Wardens.” She gave those in the know a look not to bring up Solas, and they understood. She would explain later, when her new family wasn’t around. Once that subject was changed, however, they had a wonderful time, and Varric even managed to harass most of them, including Sorolan, into a game of Wicked Grace. 

 

“It’s more fun to watch,” Amarantha told Mia and Laurel, “Remind me to tell you about this one time when Cullen-” 

 

“Oh, we are  _ not _ starting that up again!” 

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Later, once Sorolan and the Rutherfords had all gone to bed, Amarantha gathered in the war room with the inner circle to fill them in on Solas. Amaryllis stood by her side, demure but steadfast as her sister informed them of the encounter with Solas, their joined vision, and their plan.

 

“You couldn’t write shit like this,” Varric exclaimed, stunned to near silence. 

 

“Indeed not,” Amarantha agreed, “Which is why we need to be extremely careful. I don’t know what he’s capable of or what he’s going to do.” 

 

“But are you two alright?” Cassandra asked, eyeing them carefully. 

 

The sister’s shared a look. “We are,” they said in tandem. 

 

“We have something Solas doesn’t have.” 

 

“What’s that?” Dorian questioned, leaning against the Iron Bull who had he arm draped around the ‘Vint. They had scarcely let go of one another since their reunion and Amarantha took a moment to appreciate the sight of them together before taking her sister's hand in hers. 

 

“Each other.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look at me forgetting my own darn schedule. Two chapters today to make up for it. I swear.....


	52. Of Great Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amaryllis begins the plot against Solas; Dorian and Bull catch up; Amarantha and Sorolan study the knowledge from the well; Cassandra has an announcement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BE SURE TO READ CHAPTER 51 FIRST! 
> 
> I messed up my schedule so I'm posting two chapters today. 51 and 52.

Chapter 52: Of Great Interest 

 

Solas had potentially  _ murdered _ another elven god; children, nobles, and supplies were arriving in spades for the New Haven initiative; she was trying to spend time with Sorolan pouring over the books she’d hastily written in to answer all his questions, and get to know the rest of the Rutherford siblings. There were enough problems that needed Amarantha’s attention. 

 

Unfortunately one of the things she was currently forced to worry about was the large, lavish, and  _ outlandish _ dress Vivienne had designed for her. It was a soft pink, which was an unusual color for a bride, but Vivienne was determined to make the ridiculous gown, which was soft lace that wrapped tightly around Amarantha’s chest and arms and rising high to wrap around her neck, a fashion statement. The skirt was another matter entirely, loose and flowing out around her like swirls of elegant magic, lace intermingled with cloth roses that covered her from hip to the floor. 

 

“I feel ridiculous,” she murmured as the seamstress worked underneath her, pinning the hem of the dress under Vivienne’s careful and harsh instruction. 

 

“Nonsense,” Cassandra huffed from her seat a few feet away. “You look lovely.  _ I _ on the other hand, will look ridiculous.” 

 

Amarantha looked over at her friend with mirth. It had been lonely without Cassandra, the woman’s friendship proving to be more valuable than Amarantha had ever really comprehended. The absence was not so great due to the crystals that Dorian had gifted them all, but even still, having Cassandra around was a delight that was now seldom. Thankfully this wedding had done one good thing: it had brought everyone together again. 

 

“You’re going to look lovely,” Amarantha insisted, then gave her friend a hesitant look, “I hope.” 

 

“ _ Everyone _ will look and feel marvelous,” Vivienne insisted as she stepped up beside the seamstress to inspect her work. “Excellent, my dear,” she praised the woman. “Now, my dear bride to be, you may change.” She then shot a look over to Cassandra, who for a moment looked like an animal trapped in a cage, “And you  _ will _ change.” 

 

Choosing not to smart off to that, Cassandra merely stood and followed Amarantha, who was walking with slow, awkward steps as she tried not to trip over the gown. “And tell your sister to hurry along,” Vivienne called, “This is no time for dallying.” 

 

When they entered the small room to the side where the dresses were hung, they saw Amaryllis standing before the mirror, inspecting herself with a look of pure scrutiny. “This dress is funny looking,” she said to Amarantha as the two women entered. “But yours is pretty, Sister.” 

 

Amaryllis’ dress was a shade darker than Amarantha’s. It was made of a soft silk that hung loosely on her thin frame to the floor, where similar roses rounded the hem. Cassandra’s dress was the same. 

 

“It’s funny looking because  _ all _ ridiculous dresses for occasions like this are funny looking,” Cassandra remarked with distaste. “Do you remember the ball at Halamshiral?” 

 

“Yeah,” Amaryllis’ nose wrinkled. “Those ladies all looked strange.” 

 

“Yes, well, we must look strange for a day, then we can forget this ridiculousness ever happened,” Amarantha sighed, “Trust me, I’m eager for this to be done.” 

 

“I imagine,” Cassandra agreed, moving to help her friend unlace the gown. “How is Cullen handling things?” 

 

“You saw him,” she said as she let out a long breath, grateful to be able to breathe properly at last. “He’s perpetually annoyed. He finds this as frivolous as I do.” 

 

“I suppose it’s a good thing you’re already married then,” Cassandra whispered as she helped Amarantha step out of the dress before laying it carefully on the sette next to her. “And I can safely say that by witnessing all of this, I want none of this when Varric and I wed.” 

 

“Is that going to happen?” Amarantha said with a twinge of excitement, motioning for Cassandra to undress. She did so with great unhappiness and nodded.

 

“Yes, soon I expect,” she said, “Though we haven’t made anything official.” 

 

“Why not?” Amaryllis said as she twirled in place, letting out a small sound of delight as the skirt spun out around her. 

 

“Because we have some other issues we are sorting out first,” she said with a shrug that was too casual, even for her. “And because I don’t want this,” she said, gesturing to the grandeur around them. “I don’t care so much about the proposal, or the ceremony. It’s all sweet and romantic, but a life with him is what I want most. Not a silly spectacle to appease nobles who don’t care an inkling about our happiness.” 

 

“I bet Dorian’ll want a lavish wedding one day,” Amaryllis said idly as she stopped spinning and swayed in her spot, “Can that happen? Since Bull’s a Qunari and Tevinter hates Qunari’s?” 

 

“It’ll probably be a long time before we can witness the horror that will be Dorian’s wedding,” Cassandra remarked as Amarantha began pulling the laces on her the warrior’s dress. “But we can hope that the day will come nonethele- Ow!” 

 

“Sorry!” Amarantha said, “I didn’t think I had it that tight.” 

 

“It’s alright,” Cassandra said, taking a shaking breath. “Try again.” 

 

Amarantha tugged on the laces, trying to pull the dress closed, but it wouldn’t close all the way. “It’s not working,” she whispered, “Maybe they got the measurements wrong?” 

 

“I do not think so.” 

 

The three women turned to see Vivienne standing in the doorway with a look of impatience on her face. “What is taking so long? None of you are so uncultured that you do not know how to tie a corset, surely?” 

 

“No,” Cassandra hissed, “My dress is not lacing up correctly.” 

 

“That can’t be possible,” Vivienne said matter-of-fact, and strode over to where they stood, gently pulling the laces from Amarantha and began working them herself. After a moment, her brows creased. “Cassandra, dear,” she said, “You didn’t by chance send smaller measurements in the hopes of losing weight before the wedding, did you?” 

 

“What!” Cassandra squawked, “No! Why would anyone do that?” 

 

Vivienne was quiet a moment, then let out a small hum of disapproval. “Well then, you must have gained weight. If your measurements were correct, which one can only hope the seamstresses in Kirkwall are able to count, the dress should fit.” She grabbed a few pins, stuck them in the back, narrowly missing Cassandra’s skin, then instructed her to pull the gown off. “I’ll see about having it let out some,” she tsked, “But really, this is  _ most _ inconvenient.” 

 

With that, Vivienne left the room, leaving Cassandra standing there in her underthings, face red as a flame. 

 

Rolling her eyes, Amarantha picked up Cassandra’s clothing and handed them to her. “Ignore her,” she said cheerfully, “You haven’t gained weight. They probably got the measurements wr-what’s wrong?” 

 

Cassandra’s eyes were full of tears, but she wiped them away as quickly as they appeared. “Nothing,” she insisted. “It’s nothing.” 

 

“It’s not nothing if a few curt words from Vivienne are enough to leave  _ you _ in tears,” Amarantha said, moving to sit Cassandra down on the chair. Kneeling in front of her, she took the Seeker’s hands in hers. “What’s going on?” 

 

“It’s silly,” Cassandra said with a soft laugh. “I didn’t think it would be….relevant so soon. But it appears I was wrong.” 

 

“What?” 

 

Now curious herself, Amaryllis moved closer to them and sat beside her sister, careful not to mess up her dress. 

 

“I suspected the dress might not fit, but I thought I’d have more time,” she remarked, then glanced at Amarantha with a look that clearly expressed her exasperation at her apparent luck. “I’m pregnant.” 

 

There was a moment of stunned disbelief, then suddenly Cassandra was pounced upon by two elven women who were squealing in surprise and delight. 

 

_ “What?”  _

 

“When did you find out?” 

 

“How long have you known?!” 

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

 

_ Gasp _ . “Does  _ Varric know?!”  _

 

Laughing Cassandra pushed them off her. “Calm down!” She said, but the smile on her face spoke of her happiness far more than her words allowed. “It happened not long after we settled in Kirkwall. I learned when I made the journey to Leliana’s swearing in.. And yes Varric knows. He was mostly afraid I was going to kill him.” 

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

 

“Because, whether you’re interested or not, this is  _ your _ day, and I did not want to spoil it for you.” She sighed. “I was worried the dress might be tight, but unfortunately I’m a little bigger than I realized.” 

 

“So,  _ do _ you want to kill Varric?” Amaryllis asked, “Because if so I’ll fight you for him.” She was giggling, but Cassandra somehow felt the girl  _ would _ fight her if she actually tried to harm Varric. 

 

“No,” Cassandra said, “In fact I’m...relieved.” 

 

“Relieved? Why?” Amarantha asked, lowering herself to sit on the floor rather than balancing on her knees. . 

 

“Well,” Cassandra said with a light shrug, “It makes it more difficult for me to justify going off so much, if there is a child. I’d been torn about what my future held, beyond Varric,” she looked away, “Leliana already knows. And she thinks having a representative of her Chantry in Kirkwall might be beneficial to help rebuild things there. And I could manage rebuilding the Seekers from there too, though I wouldn’t be able to join them for the training.” She paused and then added, “I’m not certain I even wanted to do that in the first place.” 

 

“Because Varric couldn’t go with you?” 

 

Amarantha nudged her sister, but Cassandra nodded. “Yes,” she said, “I’m finding that, for the first time in my life, I want to do something that I  _ want _ to do, not something I feel I  _ need _ to do.” 

 

“If anyone deserves to have a break from doing what  _ needs  _ to be done, it’s you,” Amarantha agreed softly before she stood. “But this is exciting!” She clapped her hands together, “We need to go find Varric and celebrate.” 

 

“So long as it’s quietly,” Cassandra said, standing to put her clothing back on, “I’d rather keep things private for as long as possible.”

 

“We can be quiet,” Amaryllis promised, “No one but the Inner Circle knows about Sister’s elopement. Not even the rest of Cullen’s family! And  _ Mia _ hasn’t said anything either!” 

 

Cassandra gave them a surprised look. “You didn’t tell the others?” 

 

“We thought it might hurt their feelings, to not have been invited. Despite the fact that it was an  _ elopement _ . Better to let them enjoy what they think is the  _ only _ wedding.” 

 

“That may be for the best,” Cassandra agreed, then reached down to help Amaryllis unlace her dress. “Now. Hurry so we can find Varric.” 

 

\---------------

 

They found him in the Rest with Dorian and Bull. From the look on Bull’s face when the girls entered, he already knew, and he greeted the Seeker with a pat on the back that was careful not to be too hard. 

 

Smiling softly, Cassandra sat next to Varric who shot her a look of pure love and excitement, startling when a pair of thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind. “Hi, Papa Varric,” Amaryllis whispered to him, causing the dwarf to laugh heartily. 

 

“I like the sound of that,” he said as he tugged the girl down beside him and threw an arm around her shoulders. Moving around them to sit in between Dorian and her sister, Amarantha winked cheekily to Varric. “Someone’s been busy,” she remarked, causing Bull to throw his head back and bellow out a loud laugh. Cassandra’s nose wrinkled in disgust, but her hand moved to cover Varric’s that rested on the table. 

 

“Just you wait, Petal,” Varric said good naturedly, “You’re next.” 

 

Amarantha paled slightly, but quickly covered it and changed the subject. “So Dorian,” she said, nudging her friend who had been silent thus far, “I trust you’re going to outshine me at this thing, right?” 

 

Dorian perked up. “Oh absolutely,” he declared, hand to his chest, “I daresay  _ I _ will be the talk of the town.” 

 

“Good,” Amarantha said, sagging with relief, “Because I swear, I would rather face Corypheus again than deal with this for much longer.” 

 

“Let’s not and say we did,” Cassandra remarked dryly, “I’ve had my fill with evil magisters vying for godhood.” 

 

“Yeah,” Bull agreed, “I’ll take a fancy wedding over that asshole again any day.” 

 

Hanging her head, Amarantha laughed, “Seems I’m overruled,” she sighed. “I suppose we have no choice but to enjoy ourselves.” 

 

“How dreadful,” Dorian agreed. 

 

\---------------------

_ Amaryllis ventured through the fade carefully, looking for Solas. She hadn’t sought him out since the day she’d witnessed him with Mythal two months prior, but she had an excuse at the ready should she find him and he question her absence.  _

 

_ Walking through the woods, Amaryllis reached a small space that was void of trees, which allowed the moonlight to pour down upon her. With a wave of her hand she summoned a flame then left it dancing in midair as she swallowed her fear and called out, “Grandfather?”  _

 

_ A few moments later, the rustling of the brush caught her attention and she looked over to see Solas appear in the dim light her little flame offered.  _

 

_ “Good evening, dear one,” he said in Elven. “It’s been a while. I was beginning to worry.”  _

 

_ “It’s been really busy,” Amaryllis said as she stepped forward to hug Solas. It was still second nature to want to be close to him, but she couldn’t shake the image of him absorbing that light from Mythal from her mind. “We’re starting a new project- dissolving the Inquisition and beginning a post-war effort.”  _

 

_ “I’ve heard,” he said with a smile, “It seems you and your sister are doing great things.”  _

 

_ “It’s going well,” she agreed as they began to walk together. “Though that’s not all that’s kept me away.”  _

 

_ “I see. And how are the wedding plans going?”  _

 

_ She smiled. He was following her path. “It’s all silly and boring,” Amaryllis remarked simply, “Sister thinks so too. It’s making her moody.” She sighed. “She told me to tell you that she still wants to see you that day. But you probably shouldn’t let a lot of people see you.”  _

 

_ “A sensible request.”  _

 

_ “I still hate that you’re at odds though. I don’t like it.”  _

 

_ “We are not at odds,” Solas disagreed softly, “Your sister is angry. I have no qualms against her.”  _

 

_ “I think she hates it too.”  _

 

_ Solas blinked. “Why do you say that?” He seemed curious, even if slightly suspicious. But she had his attention, that was for certain.  _

 

_ “Because I saw her crying the other night. She was holding Grandmamae’s book. When she saw me she hid it. I’ve also overheard her talk to Cullen about it. How she’s mad but she misses you and she doesn’t know what to do. She even brought you up the other day. You told her a story, and she brought it up and it made her smile. But she doesn't really tell me anything and I don’t mention you to her. But she talks when she thinks I’m not around.  _

 

_ Solas was silent for a long moment, his pace slowing until they stopped. He seemed pensive, sorrowful, and Amaryllis prayed that he believed her.  _

 

_ “It seems I was right.”  _

 

_ “About what?”  _

 

_ “The wound may finally be scarring over.”  _

 

_ “Maybe,” Amaryllis agreed. “The wedding is soon.” She pulled an invitation out of her pocket and handed it to him. “I snatched one from Josephine’s desk to give you the next time I saw you. I think you should go to talk to her. It might make her feel better.”  _

 

_ Solas nodded thoughtfully. “I will consider it.”  _

 

_ “No you won’t.”  _

 

_ Solas gave her a strange look. Stepping forward, Amaryllis summoned her courage and her tears and grasped Solas’ hands in hers. He looked at her sharply, met her eyes that pierced his with a ferocity that made him see Albizia in their intensity. She would have insisted, too.  _

 

_ “You need to go to her. I don’t want you to be at odds anymore. You’re sad, she’s sad. I’m sad. Don’t let her push you away. I love you. You’re my family. I’m your family. I told you once that you didn’t have to walk alone anymore, and I meant it. In the real world, wolves run in packs. Apologize to her again and maybe this time she won’t be so mad anymore and she’ll forgive you!”  _ __

 

_ “As I’ve said before,” Solas sighed, frustrated, “It is not so easy-”  _

 

_ “Oh stop being so stubborn and quit trying to push us away! No matter what you did or what you do; no matter what my sister says, I’m not going to abandon you Solas! So stop trying to be so aloof and just let me in!”  _

 

_ Something moved within Solas at that. She’d said all these things to him before in her childlike determination to help. But now she was older, nearing fifteen in a few months, and while still a child to the eyes of someone like himself, he could not deny the maturity that had settled on her. War had done many things to her, but it had also caused her to grow. She was no longer a child; she was a young woman the likes of her sister, and he knew that he would be unable to stop her from helping. Just as Amarantha had allowed the girl to join the Inquisition because she knew otherwise the girl would have gone on her own, Solas now understood that he had let her in too closely, and as a result, she would not budge.  _

 

_ For all he knew it was a mistake, but he could not deny his beloved anything.  _ Another mistake in a list of many _ , Solas thought bitterly, but as he looked at his youngest granddaughter, the lineage he hadn’t known he’d created, he felt that familiar twinge of pride that he’d once worn like armor.  _

 

_ “I will talk to her,” he agreed, “If what you say is true, perhaps she will listen to me.”  _

 

_ “I think so,” Amaryllis agreed, “Please try. I want us to be a family.”  _

 

_ “As do I.”  _

 

_ He leaned forward to hug Amaryllis, clinging to her tightly before finally removing himself from her embrace. Turning away from her, he took a few steps then paused, “Oh, and give my congratulations to both Amarantha and Cassandra.”  _

 

_ Then, he was gone.  _

 

_ \------------------------------- _

 

Sorolan put down one of the books and made a face. “I can't begin to imagine how much more we are missing.”

 

“Oh a great deal, I’m sure,” Amarantha replied, “I can't make sense of some of it, so I'm not going to try to let the council do it either. Not yet.” 

 

“Well, we have a wonderful starting point at any rate,” he replied, lifting the book, “There will be a mix of emotions from it, but it will do us all good, in the end.” He paused and then continued. “I didn't want to say anything before, but may I ask what happened to your vallaslin? Are you covering it?” 

 

Her hand shot up to her face. She'd not even thought about her lack of vallaslin until now. Naturally Sorolan had been around when she'd received it. He'd gotten his not long before her. Feeling a twinge of shame, she signed, pushed it aside, and recalled the truth about it. 

 

Taking a breath, she explained what she had learned. Sorolan looked stricken. 

 

“ _ Slave _ markings?” He gasped, “Oh Creators!” 

 

“I was so horrified,” she admitted, “And I've been struggling with my beliefs. I met Mythal, you know.” She recalled what she and her sister saw. She couldn’t even begin imagining telling him  _ that _ story. At his look of shock, she waved him off, “Another story for another time. But I couldn't bear the thought of people looking at me like I was a slave. I had-” she choked, then continued, “I had Solas remove it. He knew a spell.” 

 

“I've not seen Solas,” Sorolan remarked, “Did something happen?” 

 

It took everything in her not to laugh. Instead she shrugged. “We had a bit of a… disagreement.  We are not really on speaking terms at the moment. Stemmed from the fact he left without saying goodbye.” It was as close to the truth she could get without revealing everything. She couldn't tell Sorolan everything, not yet. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, but she couldn't be certain what would come of telling someone outside the Inner Circle the truth of the apostate. 

 

“I am sorry to hear that,” Sorolan said, placing a comforting hand upon her arm. 

 

“So am I,” Amarantha sighed, shocked at the sincerity of her words. “Very much so.” 

 

Brushing off the solemnness that had overtaken her, she reached over and grabbed another book. “There’s a passage in here that I think you might find of great interest…” 

 

\-----------------

 

“That was amazing!”

 

Bull let out a ragged breath. “It's  _ always _ amazing.” 

 

“True,” Dorian laughed breathlessly, “But especially this time. Maker!” 

 

Pulling Dorian closer to him, Bull relaxed and settled his back against the headboard. He and Dorian had been without each other for far too long. They'd been making up for lost time, much to the amusement of everyone else, but they paid them no mind. They were running on borrowed time, and they were going to make the most of it while they could. 

 

“Though I do feel a tad bit guilty,” he admitted after a moment. “We're here for Amarantha, yet we've locked ourselves away for pretty much the entire time we've been here.” 

 

“You  _ really _ think Amarantha minds?” Bull asked as he stretched, back popping in the process and offering some relief, “She'd probably tie us together herself if we hadn't gotten around to it first.” 

 

“True,” Dorian agreed, “It's refreshing to be somewhere where I don't have to hide. That I can love you and only be forced to endure some friendly teasing.”

 

“I can tell ‘em to knock it off, if you want.” 

 

He felt Dorian shake his head against him. “Oh, no. It's fine. I enjoy the teasing. I know it comes from a place of love. Something I never really had at home.”

 

“Well Amarantha loves you, that's for sure.” 

 

“And you.” 

 

Bull grinned. “Yeah. Well, she's a loveable gal.” 

 

“And we'd have never met, if not for her,” Dorian murmured, getting cozy and drowsy. “I have to admit, meeting you is by far the greatest thing to ever happen to me.” 

 

“Careful, ‘Vint. Almost sounds like you like me.” 

 

“And we both know that isn't true.” 

 

“Nah. You love me.” 

 

Dorian lifted his head and brushed a kiss to the corner of Bull’s mouth. “Yes I do. Very much, in fact.” 

 

“And I love you too.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Assuming I don't fogret- _again_ \- I'll post 53 on Christmas Day!


	53. A Lovely Spectacle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding of the century is here; Amarantha meets with an uninvited guest.

Chapter Fifty-Three: A Lovely Spectacle 

_ The Wedding Day, Val Royeaux  _

 

Amarantha stood in her wedding dress, hair ornately curled and threaded with a crown of roses to match the dress. Her eyes were lined and her cheeks were covered in a soft glittery powder that made her shimmer in the faintest light. Looking at herself in the mirror, Amarantha felt ridiculous. She’d hoped the entire ensemble would have brought to mind the feeling she had the night of Halamshiral, when the dress had been dark and designed to strike an impression of leadership and poise. Now she felt like a silly princess from the human storybooks. Beside her, Cassandra fussed with her own dress, which now fit but was still uncomfortable. 

 

“Apparently being pregnant isn’t a good enough excuse to not wear a corset,” she griped, “At least it’s only for a few hours.” 

 

Nodding absently Amarantha stared back at her reflection, feeling so unlike herself that she barely recognized the woman in the mirror. The crown of flowers was heavy on her head, and the dress was obnoxious to say the least, as lovely as it was. 

 

Josie stood nearby finishing her work on Amaryllis, then moved to bring all four of them together. “This is going to be a joyous day,” she declared with a satisfied grin, “And you all look beautiful.” 

 

Not giving them time to answer, Josie pushed away, “Now, I have some more business to attend to. I will sends someone in half an hour to fetch you.” With that she vanished. 

 

Once the door clicked shut, all three of them groaned in varying levels of discomfort. Cassandra’s hand floated to her stomach, and she groaned. 

 

“You all right?” Amarantha asked as she moved to sit, careful not to wrinkle the dress lest she be subjected to another lecture by Vivienne. 

 

“I’m fine,” she said, “I’ve endured worse.” 

 

Shaking her head in amusement, Amarantha replied, “I’ve never met a stronger woman than you.” 

 

That made Cassandra smile. She then turned to sit, and the other two lingered in the room, waiting with anxious anticipation for things to begin. After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. Moving to answer it, Amaryllis flushed instantly when Cole stood there, behind him a rather frustrated looking Cullen. 

 

“Hello,” Amaryllis said softly to Cole, then looked up to Cullen. “What’s wrong?” 

 

“I thought the bride and groom could use a moment together,” Cole said with a shrug, “He’s been grumpy all morning, so I thought maybe seeing Amarantha might make him feel better.” 

 

“I’m not grumpy,” Cullen insisted petulantly, “I just despise large affairs like this.” 

 

“He’s grumpy,” Cole said flatly, then held out his hand for Amaryllis. She took it with a small, shy grin, ignoring Cullen’s suspicious glance and stepped out of the room to allow the groom entrance. 

 

“Go on,” she instructed, “Everyone’s decent.” 

 

Rolling his eyes, Cullen stepped inside, stopping cold the moment he saw Amarantha. She stood, smiling sheepishly as he took in the sight of her, and held her arms out to either side. “Well? What do you think?”

 

Striding up to her, Cullen pressed a fevered kiss to her lips, causing Cassandra to startle and quickly make her way to the exit. She noticed Amaryllis and Cole’s hands intertwined, but said nothing, barely containing her pleased grin. 

 

“I think,” Cullen said when he let her go at last, “That I have the most beautiful wife in all of Thedas.” 

 

“I feel ridiculous,” she said, though the protest was weak from the way Cullen was looking at her. 

 

“You don’t look it, trust me,” he said, “You are….Maker, Amarantha. How did I ever get so lucky?” 

 

Smiling, she lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, “I often ask myself the same question.” 

 

Kissing her hand, he moved down to kiss her lips again. “I was annoyed,” he admitted, “By the madness going on around us. But I think Cole had the right idea,” he said, “All I can see is you, and nothing else matters anymore. Just this, right here.” 

 

“Right here is perfect.” 

 

They kissed again, Cullen smiling down at the coin necklace that Amarantha had insisted on wearing. It didn't match the dress and Vivienne had thrown a fit over her insistence of wearing such a “tacky little sentimental piece” but ultimately Vivienne realized that it was a battle she would not win and bowed out as gracefully as she could. 

 

“I should go,” Cullen said at length, “Else I’ll never hear the end of it from Josie.” 

 

“Go, then,” she whispered, “I’ll see you again soon.” 

 

Turning with great reluctance, Cullen left the room, also noticing the way Amaryllis and Cole stood together, hands linked as they spoke softly. He raised a brow, then glanced at Cassandra who was watching them with equal amusement. Approaching the Seeker, Cullen whispered, “Should we be concerned?” 

 

The Seeker shook her head, at a loss. “I hardly know.” 

 

It was as good an answer as he could get until he could speak to his wife on the matter, so he left it at that. He rested a hand on Cassandra’s arm and smiled. “You look lovely,” he said, “Though I know you despise dresses.” 

 

“Indeed,” Cassandra agreed, “But it is for a worthy cause, I think.” She returned the gesture to Cullen and nodded. “I can think of no one more worthy of your heart than our Amarantha.”

 

“Thank you,” he smiled, “And let me know if Varric doesn’t cater to your every whim. I’ll give him a stern talking to.” 

 

Cassandra laughed at that. “There’s already a line formed. You’ll have to wait your turn.” 

 

With a nod, Cullen called for Cole and the two men made their way back to their room to wait for further instruction. 

 

The girls returned to Amarantha who was still standing, a dreamy smile on her face. A moment later, Cassandra’s finger began wiping Amarantha’s mouth, causing her to startle out of her reverie. “You’re not supposed to smudge your lips  _ before _ ,” she teased, “One would think you two are no more than lovesick teenagers.” 

 

Winking at her friend, Cassandra turned, “And speaking of teenagers,” she remarked, looking directly at Amaryllis who paled, eyes wide. 

 

Before she could tease further, the door flung open and Dorian appeared, in formal white robes with a flare of pink trim that matched Amarantha’s dress. “Why look at you, a miracle of art and fashion!” Dorian declared, marching up to the elf and taking her hands in his, “My, my,” he said, softer and more serious, “You are a thing of beauty, I must say. I don’t think my efforts were quite enough after all.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then turned to examine Cassandra. “And  _ you _ ,” he said, “Look lovely but I must say I greatly prefer you in armor. I’ve never seen someone look more terrified to be in an outfit than you do right now.” 

 

“I am not terrified,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you look preposterous.” 

 

“Preposterously handsome, you mean,” Dorian said with a sniff. He then looked at Amaryllis and grinned wide. “And you my dear girl,” he said, holding out his hand for her to take. He spun her in a small circle when she took it, and Amaryllis laughed happily, “You’re just the very definition of elegance. I must say, the former Inquisition cleans up quite nicely.” He paused with a frown, “Well, except for Bull, but he’s beyond help, I’m sorry to say.” 

 

‘Is he at least wearing a shirt?” Cassandra asked in amusement. 

 

“Oh he is,” Dorian said, clearly displeased, “Though no one was able to convince him that the shirt and pants should  _ match _ . Man looks like a damned mess.” 

 

“But he’s  _ your _ mess,” Amarantha stressed, moving forward to wrap her arms around Dorian’s shoulders, “So really, you brought this upon yourself.” 

 

“Oh, don’t remind me,” he groaned. 

 

He snapped out of his despair then, and grinned. “I’ve been sent to retrieve you lot. The carriage is ready to take you. Are you ready to get married, my dear?” 

 

“As I’ll ever be,” Amarantha replied, then murmured, “Not like I’m not already….” 

 

“Yes well, that doesn’t count and the people  _ need _ a distraction,” he remarked, motioning for everyone to follow him, “And you lot make for a lovely spectacle.” 

 

\----------------

 

Dorian and Amarantha stood together off to the side of the entrance to the Chantry of Val Royeaux, waiting as they’d rehearsed for their entrance. The music was playing a lovely, soft melody, but it didn’t nothing to ease Amarantha’s nerves. She swayed in her spot, foot bouncing impatiently as she listened for the swell of music that would signal her arrival. 

 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the most eager bride in Thedas,” Dorian remarked with his usual wit. Amarantha side-eyed him. 

 

“It’s all ridiculous,” she remarked, “I’m just ready to get back to work and for things to return to some semblance of normalcy.” 

 

“Normal is not a word I would use to define  _ anything  _ regarding us,” Dorian responded, then glanced down to her hand. “How’s it doing?” 

 

Amarantha glanced down to the mark on her palm. “It’s fine,” she said at last, “I’ve gotten much better at controlling it.” 

 

“I’m sure a certain someone who we won’t name because he’s a wretched ass would be proud of your progress.” 

 

Amarantha made a small sound of agreement. “He’s said as much.” 

 

Dorian’s brow rose. “Oh? There’s a story there, and I insist on hearing it at a less inconvenient time.” 

 

“Well, celebrations are due to last for three days,” Amarantha sighed, “So I’m certain we’ll find time.” 

 

“Good.” 

 

A moment passed, then Dorian spoke again, his voice soft, serious. “I wanted to thank you. Though this may not be the best time to do it.” 

 

Amarantha turned to face Dorian. “Thank me? Why?” 

 

Dorian shrugged in that careless ease he always presented. “For being there,” he said at last, “Supporting me. Taking care of Bull.  _ This. _ ” He gestured around them. “I’ve never been… accepted. Like this. When I came to the Inquisition, I merely wanted to help stop Corypheus and prove that Tevinter isn’t always as bad as its reputation suggests. But, I found friends. I found love. I found family.” 

 

“You  _ are _ family,” Amarantha insisted as she reached forward, wrapping her arms around Dorian, “You’re  _ my _ family. And you are so very loved.” 

 

Dorian returned the embrace, squeezing her tight to him. “I am so happy for you,” he whispered in her ear, “And I love you.” 

 

Sniffling, Amarantha replied, “I love you too.” 

 

After a moment Dorian pulled away, produced a silk handkerchief, and dabbed at his eyes. Then he reached out and did the same for Amarantha, who let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “Yes, well,” he said as he pocketed the piece of fabric, “Enough of that emotional drivel. It’s time to get you married.” 

 

“I  _ am _ married,” Amarantha whispered with a wicked grin. 

 

“Yes, well, don’t let anyone else know that or we’ll have a debacle on our hands.” Dorian grinned, “On second thought, maybe you  _ should _ .” 

 

The music swelled at that moment, and the doors to the Chantry opened, signaling that they were to enter. Sliding her arm through Dorian’s, Amarantha looked ahead to where Cullen stood, waiting for her as he’d done so many times before. 

 

“Let’s give them a show,” Amarantha said as together they stepped forward. 

 

“It’s what we do best,” Dorian agreed, smirking proudly as he walked the Inquisitor down the aisle, much to the surprise and shock of the nobles in attendance.

 

\----------

“Oh they were positively  _ livid!”  _ Dorian laughed as he slapped a hand on the table. The celebration of the Inquisitor’s wedding was still ongoing, and would be in varying parades and festivals over the next couple days, but the Inner Circle had managed to sneak off together to a small pub that Sera had frequented before she’d joined the Inquisition. Dorian had paid off the barkeep to close early and go enjoy the festivities, and leave the group there to discuss “emergency New Haven business.” 

 

“Well, I’m a Dalish heretic, being escorted down the aisle of a Southern Chantry wedding by a Tevinter magister. Of course people were going to be upset.” She winked at Sorolan, who laughed with mirth. 

 

“Oh who cares?” Mia remarked with a wave of her hand, “It’s not about them, anyway. Besides, wasn’t this supposed to be branded as a political move that shows New Haven is inclined to work with Tevinter?” 

 

‘Oh absolutely,” said Cullen, whose arm was draped leisurely around his wife. They were still in their wedding attire, Vivienne insisting that neither change until they retired to their room for the evening. “But even still, Orlesians love a good scandal, and though it wasn’t done to cause a fuss, I think we all knew it would.” He paused, then smirked, “I have to say though, it’s been quite amusing, hearing all the chatter about it.” 

 

“Oh absolutely,” Divine Victoria- Leliana- said as she pulled off her hat. The curtains had been drawn so no one would see the newly elected Divine in such a casual manner, “My agents have already given me several bits of information regarding the matter, and it will provide much amusement for weeks.” 

 

“Glad to know something good came out of this,” Amarantha said, before turning to press a kiss to Cullen’s lips, “Other than the obvious.” 

 

“A toast, then, to Petal and Curly!” Sera declared, already half-drunk, “May they make cuter babies than this lot over here,” she said, pointing to Varric and Cassandra. Varric laughed while Cassandra scowled, insisting hotly, “My child will not be  _ cute _ .” The word was said with such disgust that the rest of the group laughed. 

 

As they carried on, Amarantha felt a distinct chill in the air. The mark on her hand sparked, though thankfully no one seemed to notice it. She quickly regained control and stood with her goblet in her hand. “You all carry on,” she said with as much cheer as she could, “I’m positively burning up, so I’m going to step outside for a moment. I’ll be right back.” 

 

They all nodded as they continued to tease Cassandra about how her child would be the cutest in the land, Varric eating it all up with a huge grin. Stepping outside of the tavern, Amarantha moved toward the pier, which was void of any guests. 

 

Save one. 

 

“You make a lovely bride,” Solas whispered softly as she walked toward him. When she was within reach, he lifted a hand to brush some strands of hair out of Amarantha’s face. “I find myself wondering if Albizia would have looked as radiant as you do now.” 

 

Mouth open with a reply, Solas cut her off. “I know,” he said softly, “I might have known, had things been different. Alas. They are not.” He shook his head. “And tonight is not about the past. It’s about the future.  _ Your _ future.” 

 

“You are always so cryptic,” Amarantha replied, voice equally soft, pained.  

 

“A habit many centuries old, I can assure you,” he said with a soft smile. He then sobered, “I am proud of you, Amarantha. You have proven yourself a remarkable leader. You will make an excellent wife; a wonderful mother….” He paused a moment, sighed wearily. “You will continue to bring our family honor, where I have failed to do so.” 

 

“It could have been different,” Amarantha replied, weakly, suddenly full of emotion. “You could have made it a wonderful thing, to be a descendent of the Dread Wolf.” 

 

“Is it truly such a terrible thing? To be of my blood?” 

 

Whether it was the emotions raging within her from the past several months, the need to make him believe her, the genuine  _ want _ to have him back- something pushed Amarantha forward and she caught the Dread Wolf in her arms, hugging him tightly to her, tears forming in her eyes. 

 

“You  _ left me _ .” 

 

He clutched her to him, and he relished the feel of having her close again. “I am here now.” 

 

“It’s not enough!” 

 

“I have things I must see to,” he replied softly, “Things I cannot leave undone. Perhaps in time, I will explain everything. And then you will understand why I could not stay.” 

 

Sniffling, Amarantha nodded head, moving so her forehead was pressed to his. “I shouldn’t; but I miss you, Solas.” 

 

His breath hitches. “I miss you, too.” 

 

“Is everything alright?” 

 

The pair broke away to see Cullen standing several feet away, hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it if necessary. 

 

Solas stepped away. “I was merely offering my congratulations,” he said simply, “And now I will take my leave.” He reached out to press a kiss to Amarantha’s forehead, then moved toward Cullen. As he attempted to walk past, the Commander held an arm out, hand pressed gently but firmly to Solas’ chest. “God or not,” he whispered lowly, “If you continue to hurt my wife and Amaryllis, I will make certain that you are sorry.” 

 

Solas glanced back to Amarantha, tears welling in her eyes once more. Hanging his head low, he sighed, then glanced at Cullen. “I already am.” With a light grip, Solas removed Cullen’s hand from his person. “But know the same warning applies to you. I am leaving my granddaughters in your care. Do not force me to add this to my list of regrets.” 

 

Cullen gave Solas a curt nod. “You won’t have to.” 

 

“Good.” 

 

Then is a swirl of magic, as dark as the night around them, Solas disappeared. 

 

When the dust of magic dissipated, Cullen moved to Amarantha, catching her in his arms. “Are you alright? I saw your hand and knew he had to be nearby.”

 

Despite her tears, she nodded. “I am.” She then whispered softly, “He believed me.” 

 

Understanding dawned on Cullen, and he traced his hands over her cheeks, through her hair. “Good. I hope this works.” 

 

“I hope so too,” She agreed. “But for the moment, I’d like to celebrate my wedding.” 

 

Appeased by that, Cullen wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist. “Then let us go, and look to our future together.” 

 

Curling against him even as they walked, Amarantha could think of nothing she truly wanted more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! Or, Happy Monday if you don't celebrate. 
> 
> We're stumbling our way to the end. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.....


	54. Secrets of Their Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrations continue, bets are won, decisions are made, and secrets are kept.

New Chapter 54: Secrets of Their Own 

 

Celebrations continued for the next two days. Feasts and balls were held in honor of the newly wedded couple, most using it as a chance to suck up to the Lady Lavellen and her husband. Her prestige as the Inquisitor was still highly regarded, and everyone wanted to be in her good graces, going so far as to donate large sums of money and services to the New Haven initiative. For that alone, Amarantha considered the event a success. 

 

She and Cullen had opted against a honeymoon, what with things being so busy. They would take a break in the future, but for the moment they were both happy to work, and there was plenty to be had upon their return. 

 

For the moment, however, they were enjoying themselves immensely, and had once again snuck off with the others to a secluded location on the pretense of needing to conduct business in order to catch up and speak uninhibited. 

 

Talk quickly turned back to Varric and Cassandra’s child, including on whether it would be a boy or a girl.

 

“I had a dream,” Cassandra said softly, “That it was a son. But I will not know until the child is born.” 

 

“I’m taking bets, by the way,” Varric piped up good naturedly. 

 

“I got money on a boy,” Bull said, “It looks like you’re carrying low.” 

 

“Wh-” Cassandra balked, “How on earth can you even tell? I’m barely showing!” 

 

“Nah, I can tell,” Bull shrugged, “Former Ben-Hassrath, remember?” 

 

“Yes, well, in the spirit of being difficult, I’m going to bet  _ against _ Bull and hope for a lovely little girl,” Dorian decided, crossing his arms. “We can fight about who’s right until the time comes.” 

 

“Good. Give us something to do in between-” 

 

“Bull!” 

 

Bull stopped, glanced at Amaryllis who gave him a look that suggested she knew  _ exactly  _ what he was referring to, and Bull laughed. “Sorry,” he said, hands lifting in the air. 

 

“Yes, well,” Amarantha said, clearing her throat and standing, “In the interest of getting as far away from  _ that  _ subject as possible-” she smiled, “I wanted to gather you all here for a specific reason: this is our last night together in Val Royeaux;” the others proceeded to boo, causing her to laugh. “Yes! I agree; it’s gone by too quickly. I know you are all returning with us for a week or so before once more going your separate ways, but I thought this might be the best opportunity to share some news with everyone I care about present. 

 

She looked around the table at the additions to the Circle, Mia and the rest of the Rutherfords, her sister. Sorolan. She looked at the changes that had come about as well: Cassandra and Varric together, happy, and with a child on the way. Bull and Dorian, separated through necessity but very much in love. Even Cullen and herself, as well as her sister, who it seemed was coming into her own and finding her first love. It was a beautiful sight, to see where they’d started to where they now stood, and Amarantha knew that despite the hardship and pain that had pushed them all to this point, she wouldn’t trade her family for anything. 

 

“And I want you all to know that, both as your current and/or former leader and as your friend, I could not have been blessed with a finer group of people to support me, help me, and care for me. I am grateful for you all, for your individual contributions, your friendship, your dedication, and your being willing to teach a silly Dalish girl how to navigate the political spectacle that comes with this position.” 

 

That drew a laugh and some applause from the table. Amarantha smiled. “And, since you’re all here, I’d like to make a formal announcement.” She glanced at Cullen and winked, leaving her husband confused but intrigued. “There is a custom with the Dalish,” she began as she glanced at Sorolan, who seemed to have guessed at the announcement and was grinning widely, “In which any sort of personal triumph- or sorrow- is shared with the entire clan. We are not groups of individual families, but we are a unit, a whole. So when one person has reason to celebrate, the entire clan celebrates. Before I explain, first I must apologize to my husband. Cullen, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand, but I wanted to be certain. But, to my husband, family-” she gestured to Cullen and his siblings, “and family,” she motioned to the rest of them, “It is with slight surprise and happiness that I tell you all that I, too, am with child.” 

 

There was a moment of silence around the table, then suddenly Bull slammed his hand on the table and pointed to Sera. “ _ I CALLED IT.”  _

 

Amarantha blinked, stunned. “What?” 

 

Before she could get an answer, she was swept up in Cullen’s arms, being kissed thoroughly. “Truly?” He whispered, eyes sparkling with wonderous delight. 

 

“Yes,” she whispered, holding onto him tightly. “I know I should have told you-” 

 

“No,” he said, kissing her again, “This is wonderful! I can think of no better way to learn such news.” 

 

“Good,” she said, relieved, “I was afraid you might be upset.” 

 

“How can I be upset, when I’m going to be a  _ father!”  _ Turning to face the others, Cullen cheered, “I’m going to be a father!” 

 

The rest of the group applauded, and Varric came over to slap Cullen on the back. “Looks like we’re in for a lot of trouble,” he said with a laugh, “These two pregnant, at the same time? I think we may need to just go hide out for a few months until all the hard work is over.” 

 

‘I would hunt you down and make you pay,” Cassandra remarked as she moved past him to hug her friend. “How long have you known?” 

 

“Since right before we left for Val Royeaux,” Amarantha said, giddy, wobbling as she felt her sister run up behind her and hug her. “I was feeling unwell and thought it was the stress of everything but I went to a healer to be sure and they said I was not far along, but just enough to start feeling off.”

 

Mia, Rosalie, and Laurel came and hugged her next, leaning over Rilly to hold their new sister tight. “We’re going to be aunties!” Mia said to Amaryllis who grinned. 

 

“This is exciting!” Amaryllis laughed, “I can’t believe you kept it secret!” 

 

“It wasn’t easy!” Amarantha laughed, accepting hugs from everyone else as they cheered. 

 

“Just promise me to have a girl so we can continue to outnumber the Rutherford men,” Laurel said in her matter of fact way. She was grinning however, and Amarantha smiled. “If I have a say in the matter, we will have a girl!” 

 

Cassandra came over to hug her as well and she looked at her friend sheepishly, “I feel bad about taking the attention away from you. But I wanted to tell everyone while we were together.” 

 

Cassandra waved her off. “You think I’m interested in the spotlight?” She scoffed, “I want to go about this with as little fuss as possible.” 

 

‘Oh, there will be fuss,” Leliana said, as she wound her arm around Amarantha’s waist, “A human having a half dwarven baby, and not wed? The Chantry will riot.” 

 

“Not if I’m in Kirkwall and they don’t know,” Cassandra said, making Varric tsk. 

 

‘Now, Seeker, that sounds like you’re planning to be untruthful, and as a Seeker of Truth, I think that goes against the rules.”  

 

“Oh?” Cassandra said skeptically, “So what, do you want to get married while we’re here then?” 

 

“Well,” Varric said, tossing a grin to the other newlywed couple who grinned and saluted playfully in response. He glanced back to Cassandra who was staring at him wide-eyed, “It’s not entirely classy to propose at someone else’s wedding celebration,” he began, “But then I’m not a classy guy. So, what do you say? Want to get married?” 

 

“You are a moron,” she remarked, “But  _ of course I do. _ ” 

 

Varric reached up to kiss her, then turned to Leliana, “Oh your Holy-ful-ness, would you do the honors?” 

 

“Absolutely,” Leliana said with a grin. “This has been quite a productive weekend, I must say.” 

 

Glancing over to Cassandra, Amarantha grinned, “Would you like a barely used wedding dress?” 

 

“ _ Absolutely not,”  _ Vivienne answered for the Seeker, causing the others to laugh. 

 

“Well, let’s break into the Chantry and get this show on the road!” Bull said, standing, his belly shaking from laughter. The others cheered in agreement and they slipped away and made their way to the Chantry. 

 

Half an hour later, Cassandra and Varric were wed, surrounded by their friends, full of love and happiness for the future that lay ahead. 

  
  


\------------------------------

 

“A baby!” 

 

“Yes, Cullen.” 

 

“We’re going to have a child. Our own child.” 

 

“That’s generally how it works, so I’m told.” 

 

Cullen was pacing in their quarters back at Skyhold two days later, the reality of a child settling on him and sending him into a frantic, duty-bound mess. “We have nowhere to keep a child.” 

 

“There’s a perfectly nice broom closet outside the kitchens.” 

 

Rounding on her, horrified, Cullen cried, “What!” 

 

Standing up and moving closer to her husband, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m teasing,” she replied, “Cullen, it’s going to be  _ fine _ . This place is huge. The baby will have a bed in here, and when it gets older, we’ll fix up a room. We have  _ time _ .” 

 

Cullen’s body sagged. “I suppose you’re right,” he mused, then panic struck him again, “But what if-” 

 

He was silenced with a kiss. “The baby will be fine. We will be fine. We will have Ranier carve a lovely little crib and we will fall desperately in love with our little girl, and everything will be wonderful.” 

 

“A girl?” 

 

“Why not?” Amarantha shrugged, “I made a promise to Laurel, after all.” 

 

That made Cullen laugh a little, and he led the two of them over to the sofa to sit. “A little girl,” he thought aloud, “I’ll have to get her some armor, and a good practice sword.” 

 

“Or a staff,” Amarantha mused just as softly, “Knowing what runs in my veins, and all that.” 

 

Turning to face her, Cullen took her hands in his. “Does that bother you? Knowing that our child will be.... potentially like him?” 

 

“Oh I’ve no doubt our child will possess some kind of magic,” Amarantha said resigned, “It’s just whether I want her to know the source of that magic.” 

 

“Staying him away is what you are so angry with him for doing. And doesn’t help your plan.” 

 

She made a face. “This is true.” 

 

“Though I’m not certain I want the Dread Wolf coming near my little girl.” 

 

Amarantha agreed. “Well, that’s the difference between the Dread Wolf and his descendents,” she said thoughtfully, “He may walk alone, but the rest of us run in a pack. He’ll have to go through an entire army to do her harm.” 

 

\---------------------

 

“What’s wrong, Kadan?” 

 

Dorian looked up from his book to see Bull looking at him with a scrutinising eye. They were back at Skyhold for a few days, Dorian remaining under the pretense of doing some diplomatic discussions on behalf of Tevinter. Those  _ were  _ taking place, but the real reason for the stay was to allow Dorian some much needed reprieve with Bull. 

 

“Who says anything’s wrong?” 

 

Bull gave him a  _ look _ . “I know you. Something’s wrong.” 

 

Slamming the book shut in childlike animosity, Dorian huffed. “It’s infuriating that you know me as well as you do.” 

 

“Yeah, well.” He moved closer, taking a seat on the footrest where Dorian was reclined. “Talk to me, Kadan. Something’s been bothering you since Val Royeaux.” 

 

Huffing once more, Dorian relented. “Fine,” he said, “I’m jealous.” 

 

Bull blinked. “Of?” 

 

“Amarantha and Cassandra. Varric and Cullen.” 

 

“Because they got married.” 

 

Dorian nodded, “Because they  _ can _ get married.” He blew air out of his mouth, blinking away tears. “If I were to show up at home, married to you, I’d may as well burn Tevinter to the ground. Never mind that we’re men,  _ you’re _ the enemy. And it isn’t fair that my heart is split in two, resting here with you and the family  _ we _ could have, and back home where I  _ know _ that Calpernia and I can really do some good.” 

 

“You want a family,” Bull remarked, his tone soft and gentle unlike any tone he’d ever taken over a subject. 

 

“Of course,” Dorian replied hotly, “I want to marry you, and I want us to find some ridiculously cute little child to adopt and spoil and I want us to argue over how we’re going to raise said child and I want to laugh in your face when said child turns out to be a mage like his father-” 

 

“Wait why are  _ you _ the father? What am I?” 

 

Dorian shrugged helplessly. “I’ve always envisioned myself being  _ father _ and you being  _ papa.” _

 

Bull was silent for a long moment. “You’ve...thought about this.” 

 

“Every day that we’re apart. Sometimes that little fantasy is the only thing that gets me through the day. I can pretend I’m changing the world then I come home and there the two of you are, and the little one runs to me and tells me all the ridiculous things you’ve taught them that I’m going to have to  _ un _ teach them and it’s-” Dorian sighed. “Everyone else gets to save the world with their family by their side. It  _ kills _ me that I can’t do the same.” 

 

Moving closer to Dorian, Bull cupped his cheeks in his hands. “I’ve never imagined I’d have a family,” he said, then added, “Outside the Chargers.” Dorian said nothing, for once patient. “But,” Bull continued, “You make a compelling argument.” 

 

“Of course I do.” 

 

“We may not be able to marry in Tevinter, but who’s to say we can’t be together?” 

 

“Because you’re Qunari and they’d kill you.” 

 

“I’m a big guy. I can take care of myself,” Bull replied with a lazy shrug. “Besides, the best way to get ‘em used to the idea is by doing it.” 

 

“You can’t come to Tevinter.” 

 

“I’m not asking permission.” 

 

“Amatus,” Dorian begged, “You’re not being sensible.” 

 

“Never said I was bein’ sensible,” Bull said, “Surely you got some jobs the Chargers could take care of? Let’s see if the Boss will commission them- as an act of good faith- to you, to help stabilize things there, hmm?” 

 

Dorian stared at him, flabbergasted. “You’ve thought about this.” 

 

“Every day we’ve been apart.” 

 

“You’ll be treated poorly. Laughed at.” 

 

“Eh. Not like it’s bothered me yet.” 

 

“Bull are you-” 

 

Dorian was cut off by a kiss from Bull. “I’m certain about a lot of things: Corypheus was nuts, the Fade is creepy as hell, my boys are the best team in Thedas, and most importantly, I love you. I’ve dealt with plenty of shit in my life. If I can deal with it while getting to come home to you, then what’s the problem?” 

 

Dorian looked uncertain, but eventually asked, “You’re serious.” 

 

“As a stuffy Chantry sister.” 

 

“We’re going to Tevinter.” 

 

‘Together.” 

 

“And we’re going to adopt a child.” 

 

‘Maybe not right away,” Bull said, “But yeah. And we got ties with the big lady in charge of the post-war babysitting camps,” he smirked, “Pretty sure we can get a kid.” 

 

“And you  _ want _ this?” 

 

“Dorian,” Bull said firmly, “Yes. Now stop being so damn difficult and let’s go.” He pulled Dorian up, who followed willingly. 

 

‘Where are we going?” 

 

“Well, we can’t make our own kid,” Bull said cheekily, “But we can sure as hell try anyway.” 

\---------------------------

 

_ “Grandfather?”  _

 

_ A moment of silence followed before a soft answer. “Yes?”  _

 

_ “I have an idea.”  _

 

_ “Oh?”  _

 

_ Amaryllis nodded. She’d talked to Amarantha a few days prior about what to do with Solas, especially now that Amarantha was with child. Whatever he was planning was clearly moving slowly, perhaps more slowly than he’d like. He’d been agitated of late, though he’d been careful not to let her see the extent of his frustration. She’d expressed to Amarantha that she thought he wasn’t able to make his plans work, and had offered a suggestion. One that Amarantha had been hesitant to agree to, but Amaryllis had eventually convinced her of its merit.  _

 

_ “Only if you're willing,” Amarantha had said. “I'm endangering you, technically. And I can't in good conscious ask you to do this unless you are completely willing to take this risk, even though I know that Solas would never hurt you.” _

 

_ “I would have suggested it if I weren’t certain,” Amaryllis had replied, standing straight, like a soldier receiving orders. “I don't want Solas to hurt anyone. Or get himself hurt. And if I have to lie to him to make sure no one gets hurt, then I will.”  _

 

_ “I want to help you,” she told him.  _

 

_ Solas blinked. “Help me?”  _

 

_ “Whatever it is you’re doing. I want to help. I love you and I don’t think you should have to do it alone.”  _

 

_ “I cannot allow that.”  _

 

_ “Why not? I’m a strong mage! You taught me yourself! I can be useful! I promise!”  _

 

_ Solas watched her for a long moment. Studied her, as if trying to see into her heart and ensure her sincerity. And she  _ was _ sincere. She wanted to help Solas. Though she knew that her definition of help may not line up with his. If he was truly doing something wrong, she would work to stop him. If it was something good, she would help him finish his task so that he could come back to them. She was determined.  _

 

_ Finally, Solas seemed to come to a decision.  _

 

_ “If that is what you wish,” he said at length. “But on one condition.”  _

 

_ “What?”  _

 

_ “You cannot tell your sister nothing of what you see here.”  _

 

_ “Okay.”  _

 

_ Solas gave her a look. Suspicious. Had she been too eager?  _

 

_ “I won’t say a word,” she swore, “Sister knows I come here and spend time with you. She is fine with it. She asks me how you are but that’s it. And with the baby on the way, she’s distracted enough that she wouldn’t suspect anything. I’ll just tell her you’re training me. And you can! That way I’m not lying!”  _

 

_ Solas considered this. It made sense. And he was still too weak. Perhaps…  _

 

_ He looked at his granddaughter with a sly grin.  _

 

_ “You truly want to help me?”  _

 

_ “Yes, Grandfather,” Amaryllis said, reaching out to take his hand. “I want to help. I’ll do whatever you need. I love you.”   _

 

_ Solas smiled. “I love you too.”  _

 

_ I’m sorry, Amaryllis thought as she returned his gaze. I’m sorry I must lie to you. But it’s the right thing to do.  _

 


	55. Lifting Veils, Breaking Barriers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull and Dorian take things to the next level; Josie contemplates a change in her life; The sister's make progress on figuring out Solas' plan.

Chapter 55: Lifting Veils, Breaking Barriers

 

_ “Good.”  _

 

_ Amaryllis looked up with a grin. “Really?”  _

 

_ “Oh yes,” Solas said as he stepped around her, expression serious but doting. “I remember trying to learn that spell as a young man; I was not quite so adept as you seem to be.”  _

 

_ Amaryllis beamed at Solas’ praise and then positioned herself to try again. A hand on her shoulder stopped her.  _

 

_ “Do not overtax yourself,” he said gently, and let her over to a nearby log to sit. She sat next to him, bouncing her staff on her lap. Solas had mentioned gifting her a new one, stronger and more durable, but Amaryllis was attached to this staff. Cullen had given it to her, and she cherished it more than anything. It helped serve as a reminder of what she was fighting for. Of what she was training for.  _

 

_ “How are things at Skyhold?” He asked as he offered her a drink from his canteen.  _

 

_ Amaryllis drank deep, then wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “It's so busy,” she said with a smile. “Everyone is getting used to calling it New Haven. And all the kids are so sweet. I teach a bunch of young mages a couple times a week. We sometimes just sit and talk and tell stories; that seems to make them feel just as good as learning magic.” _

 

_ “Are they all human children?”  _

 

_ Amaryllis shook her head. “All but three are elves.”  _

 

_ Solas seemed to ponder this, then changed the subject. “And your sister? How does she fare?”  _

 

_ “She’s  _ really _ busy,” Amaryllis said. And it was true. Amarantha was running around more these days than when Corypheus was a threat, it seemed. Plus now she was expecting, so she was trying to balance everything else with feeling unwell, dealing with an overprotective Cullen, and trying to stop everyone from going overboard on a ridiculous nursery.  _

 

_ Unable to help himself, Solas laughed. “It seems she has her hands full.”  _

 

_ “She says hello, though,” Amaryllis lied, “She says she’d come visit you, but by the time she goes to bed she’s too tired to try to enter the Fade.”  _

 

_ “In her condition, I would rather her rest,” Solas replied. “Tell her I wish her and the child well. Has a name been decided upon?”  _

_ “Yes, but I can’t tell you.”  _

 

_ “Oh?”  _

 

_ “It’s a surprise.”  _

 

_ “Then I shall eagerly await the day my great-grandchild arrives.”  _

 

_ “Is it weird?” Amaryllis asked suddenly, “You don’t look very old, but you have a  _ great-grandchild _. Does it make you feel old?”  _

 

_ Solas let out a soft, sorrowful laugh. “Many things make me feel old,” he admitted, “Not least of which is having a granddaughter old enough to be a mother.”  _

 

_ “What do you think Grandmamae would think of it?”  _

 

_ Solas’ expression softened. “I think she would be proud,” he said at length. “Of both of you.” _

 

_ “Do you think she’s proud of you?”  _

 

_ Solas looked away. “I cannot say.”   _

 

_ \------------------------------------ _

 

“I am going to murder everyone here and then fling myself off the nearest cliff,” Amarantha murmured through the crystal to Cassandra. They had been sharing pregnancy triumphs and woes since the latter’s departure back to Kirkwall. She had began work in the Chantry at Kirkwall, serving as an agent and councilwoman for New Haven, and was the Divine’s head councilwoman as well. She was as busy as Amarantha these days, and the two women had already made plans for her and Varric to return to New Haven once their child was born and healthy. 

 

“I’m ready for the bastard to be born already,” Cassandra huffed. Amarantha laughed. 

 

“I can’t imagine what Varric would say if he heard you refer to his child as a bastard.”

 

“Probably agree. I’ve been… moody.” 

 

“More so than normal?” Amarantha teased. She heard Cassandra grumble over the crystal. 

 

“Shut up.” 

 

Amarantha laughed. It felt good to talk to someone who understood. Cullen, Maker bless him, didn’t quite understand. Neither did Amaryllis, excited though she was. And Josephine, well… 

 

“Did I tell you that a suitor came calling on Josephine?” 

 

“No!” Cassandra gasped. “Who? When?” 

 

“A couple weeks ago, actually,” Amarantha said as she carefully maneuvered herself to become more comfortable. “Apparently it’s an arranged marriage. She had tactfully hid it from all of us, but now with the threat over, he’s come calling.” 

 

“What did Josie do?” 

 

“Set him to work.”

 

“Sounds about right.” 

 

“Indeed,” Amarantha laughed, “At first she said she was going to put it off for as long as possible. And we were all set to support her and dislike him immensely, but he’s been so good natured about the whole thing, and seems to genuinely like helping, and the children really adore him. He’s been teaching a few of the older ones fencing. He’s managed to win us all over, and I think she might actually like him, but she’d probably slap me for daring to suggest such a thing.” 

 

“I can hardly imagine Josephine in love,” Cassandra mused, “She’s always been so…” 

 

“Busy?” Amarantha supplied. 

 

“Yes, that’s one way to put it.” 

 

“Yes, well, we may have a wedding on our hands in the coming months,” Amarantha replied, “And I for one am looking forward to a little payback.” 

 

\---------------------------

 

“Amatus?” 

 

Bull looked up from the book he was reading to see Dorian enter the room. He’d been in meetings all day, and Bull hadn’t had any jobs in over a week. There were a few contracts in progress, and once they were finalized he’d be out of the house, but for the moment he was content where he was, in Dorian’s estate, feeling equally like an intruder and quite at home. 

 

Dorian collapsed beside Bull and sighed dramatically. “Why do I bother?” 

 

“Because it’s the right thing to do?” 

 

“Would it be the right thing to do if I just killed every single one of those idiotic old men and just started a  _ new _ magistrate?” 

 

“They not taking to your ideas?” 

 

“Won’t even let me finish speaking before they start tearing everything apart. I swear some days I’d get more done if I just stayed home and slammed my head against the wall.” 

 

Bull leaned down and pressed a kiss to Dorian’s forehead. “And mess up that pretty face of yours? I don’t think so.” 

 

Smiling softly, Dorian moved so that he was further nestled against Bull. “At least Calpernia is on my side. Though several of the magister’s think she’s disloyal in the first place. But she stays calm- calmer than  _ me _ \- and managed to convince them of a few points. Though they still voted against it.” 

 

“So no progress at all, then?” 

 

“Not since three months ago,” Dorian shook his head. “It’s a slow process, one I’m hating more and more every day.” 

 

“Well, you didn’t expect this to be easy.” 

 

“Nothing worth doing is,” replied Dorian, giving Bull a soft and genuine smile. Then he sat up. “But speaking of progress,” he began as he moved off the sofa in an almost fidgety, “I’m positively starving.” 

 

“Now that I can do something about,” Bull said as they ventured into the kitchen, where one of Dorian’s few servants was working. Upon inheriting the home, he’d given all the servants a choice to leave or to stay. Many had chosen to leave, to pursue a different life, though perhaps not better. But some had stayed, and Dorian ensured that they were well-treated and well-paid. 

 

The kitchen maid nodded to the couple as they entered the room. “I’ve dinner prepared, as you requested, Sir Pavus,” she said politely before exiting. Bull gave Dorian a look. 

 

“As requested?” 

 

“I request dinner every day,” Dorian said idly, walking past Bull who was still studying him. “Is that so unusual?” 

 

‘It is when she points it out and gives me a weird look,” Bull replied. 

 

‘Oh, stop being a spy and come in here,” Dorian replied from the next room, which was not as formal as the dining room upstairs, but was intimate and cozy. 

 

Bull entered to see a simple meal prepared- a hearty stew and bread and a variety of cheeses- with a bottle of expensive Tevinter wine. Suspicions up, Bull took a seat at his usual spot and Dorian settled across from him. 

 

“I don’t have a birthday,” Bull said, “And it’s not yours either.” 

 

“No,” Dorian agreed. 

 

“It’s not our anniversary either.” 

 

“I can’t want a nice, candlelit dinner with the man I love after a hard day at work?” 

 

“Not when you keep bouncing your foot nervously and looking around like you expect us to be attacked at any moment.” 

 

“As I said, can you not be a spy for ten minutes?” 

 

“Nope.” 

 

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Just eat. I promise I’ll explain.” 

 

“You’re not gonna poison me are you?” Bull asked, laughing at the look of horror Dorian threw his way. 

 

“What?!”

 

“I’m teasing,” Bull said as he took a large bite of stew. “Mmmm. Good.” 

 

They ate their meal, talking softly about the Chargers and Amarantha and upcoming jobs that Bull was going to take. Plans for a return to the newly-dubbed New Haven were also mentioned. “I can’t wait to see my niece,” Dorian sighed wistfully, “I will have her spoiled in no time.” 

 

“I think Cullen will have her spoiled long before we make it there,” Bull remarked. 

 

“You may be right,” replied Dorian thoughtfully, “Man is besotted by those girls. Though I suppose I can’t say much either.” 

 

“They definitely have a piece of your heart. Mine too.” 

 

Dorian smiled wistfully at that, and they continued their meal. Once they were finished and enjoyed another glass of wine, Dorian huffed, then stood. “Stay there,” he said. He picked up Bull’s empty bowl and quickly deposited them in the kitchen. Bull could hear him rummaging around for a moment, then Dorian re-entered and placed a box unceremoniously on the table before Bull. “For you.” 

 

Bull eyed the box curiously. “I told you something was up.” 

 

“Shut up.” 

 

So, what is it?” Bull gently shook the box, the contents moving slightly inside. Dorian placed a hand on the box. 

 

“A gift. One that you’ll see if you open the box.” 

 

Curious at that, Bull wordlessly pulled off the large ribbon that held the box together, then lifted the lid. He blinked, and his breath caught as he stared down at a large dragon’s tooth. Reaching over, Dorian picked it up, and Bull felt his heart flutter when the two pieces easily fell apart. 

 

“I’ve been doing some research,” he began softly, “About Qunari traditions. Turns out you have a terribly sentimental tradition that I thought would be perfect for us. Now, I didn’t actually kill this dragon, but Amarantha ensures me that it  _ was _ one that the Inquisition fought, so there’s a chance one of us was involved with it; I know that doesn’t really comply with the tradition per se, but I didn’t think I could-” 

 

Dorian was cut off by Bull pulling him onto his lap and kissing him soundly. Dorian gave in to the embrace and relished in the feeling of Bull’s lips against his, the feel of his hands covering him and holding him close. 

 

“Kadan,” Bull whispered, and Dorian was surprised to see wetness in Bull’s eye. “This is not a gift given lightly.” 

 

“I’m not giving it lightly,” Dorian whispered back, “I’m giving it intentionally. With a very precise understanding of what such a gift entails.” 

 

“It’s quite a statement to make,” Bull replied, “Especially in Tevinter.” 

 

“It’s a statement I intend to make loud, clear, and as emphatically as possible,” he replied. “I love you. It’s an open secret we’re lovers. Everyone is content to look the other way, but I want acceptance. I can’t fight for something unless I embrace it fully. And I want to embrace  _ this _ ,” he gestured between them. “I want to love you openly and without hesitation. It may be dangerous, it may bring us grief, but I don’t care. Others may have pieces of my heart, but  _ you _ are my heart, Iron Bull, and I love you. I love you more than I ever thought it possible.” 

 

“I love you too, Kadan.” 

 

They kissed, then Dorian took one of the necklaces and carefully tied it around Bull’s neck. Bull returned the favor, and Dorian looked down at the tooth and smiled thoughtfully. “You know; I am a magister,” he said, “And Calpernia can notarize official documents. What’s say tomorrow I bring home a marriage document and we can sign it and file it with no fuss?” 

 

“You wanna do that?” Bull asked, “Marry me without some huge, lavish ceremony?” 

 

Dorian tugged on the necklace to bring Bull’s face closer to his. “I love you more than I love showing off how handsome I am,” he said, “As long as I get to be with you, who cares  _ how _ we’re married? What do you say, Amatus? Would you like to be my husband?” 

 

Bull grinned. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be.” 

 

\--------------------------------------

 

“He’s using me.” 

 

Cole looked up from the jam he was spreading on his bread. He and Amaryllis were having a picnic on the barracks high above, watching as those below them bustled about. “Oh?” 

 

“I think he’s going to ask me to help him.”

 

“I thought you volunteered to do that.” 

 

“I did,” she said as she plucked a strawberry off the plate and ate it, “But I think he’s taking me seriously now. I think he means to have me help him. Whatever he’s doing, I don’t think he can do it himself.” 

 

“Do you know why?” 

 

She shook her head. “The orb was destroyed. Even with Mythal’s….power? He isn’t quite strong enough yet. He wasn’t when he woke up all those years ago, and he keeps getting distracted so he can’t manage to focus his power.” 

 

“Perhaps that’s a good thing.” 

 

Amaryllis shrugged. “I have no idea. I think it’s bad. He’s secretive. And he’s teaching me ancient magic. Things we saw in the Temple of Mythal. I think whatever he’s doing is connected to the gods.” 

 

“He always felt sad when the gods or the Dalish were mentioned. Like he was trying to put together a puzzle but some of the pieces were missing.” 

 

“Maybe that’s it,” Amaryllis mused. 

 

“He wanted to stop hurting,” Cole whispered, “The pain was great. I remember. I had never felt such pain. Even now I remember it.” 

 

“What would have hurt him? What could possibly hurt the Dread Wolf?” Amaryllis asked, more to herself than to Cole. After a moment she blinked and tossed the thoughts away. “I’ll think about it later,” she said with a finality that Cole knew was serious. “We’re supposed to be enjoying our picnic.” 

 

“I always enjoy hearing you talk,” he shrugged, “As long as you’re happy.” 

 

“I am happy,” Amaryllis decided with a nod. “Because of many things; one of them being you.” 

 

“I like being one of those things.” 

 

Amaryllis grinned, a flush warming her cheeks. She looked away, and Cole took a moment to study her. She’d been a child when they met. Twelve years old and the weight of the world on her shoulders. Now she was older, beautiful and powerful. Cole felt his heart flutter again as he watched her, and recalled the advice Varric had given him.  _ “If your heart flutters when you think about her, then that’s probably love, kid.”  _

 

He scooted closer to her, then tapped her on the shoulder. She looked back at him, surprised when he was much closer. 

 

“Can I kiss you?” 

 

Amaryllis blinked, and a small smile began to spread. “What?” 

 

“That’s what I’m supposed to do, isn’t it? Kiss you.” 

 

She nodded. “I think so. Only if you want to.” 

 

“Do you?” 

 

She inched closer. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

 

“I haven’t either. I don’t think.” He paused and considered that. “I suppose it wouldn’t count if I don’t remember it.” 

 

“Then we can be each other’s first kiss,” Amaryllis whispered, and Cole nodded. 

 

They shifted, and lightly pressed their lips together. It was chaste, innocent, much like the two of them when it came to matters of love, but it felt right. When they pulled away, both their cheeks were flushed, and Rilly giggled and looked away. Cole blinked and touched his lips with his fingers. 

 

“Wow,” he whispered in surprise. Amaryllis looked back at him, and giggled again in delight. 

 

After their picnic, Cole walked Amaryllis back to her sister’s room. She smiled at him, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek before shuffling the basket in his grip and bidding her a good night. 

 

Amaryllis bit back a giggle and slipped inside, calling out her sister's name, just in case she and Cullen were together. 

 

At her sister's reply to come on up, Amaryllis entered the room to see Amarantha sitting in the middle of the floor with their grandmother’s journal, hand glowing green and sparking. 

 

“Are you okay?!”

 

Amarantha looked up, then extinguished the energy. “Fine. Thinking.” She gave her sister a curious look. “Why? You look like you have something important to tell me. Maybe why you’re blushing?” 

 

The blush deepened. “Cole kissed me.” 

 

“Where!” 

 

“We were sitting on the-” 

 

“No,  _ where _ ?”

 

“Oh. Um, well-” she pointed to her mouth and Amarantha grinned. 

 

“About time!”

 

Amaryllis moved to sit across from her sister and buried her head in her hands. “I liked it,” she murmured. 

 

“Well it'd be bad if you didn't!” 

 

Rilly looked up long enough to give her sister an annoyed look. “My heart feels funny. Is that normal?” 

 

“I'd say it'd be worrisome if you  _ didn't _ feel funny after being kissed by a boy you like,” Amarantha reasoned. “My heart still flutters every time Cullen kisses me.” 

 

“We didn't kiss like  _ that _ ,” Amaryllis said, sticking out her tongue. “You guys are obnoxious.” 

 

“We are  _ in love _ .” 

 

“Still gross.” 

 

“You're gross.” 

 

Amaryllis laughed at that, then looked down at the book. “Why are you reading it again?” 

 

“Well, I gave Sorolan several of the other books. None containing information about Solas. But still. I'm trying to figure out what he's doing. And I just can't put the pieces together. I've been reading the stories about him-” she referenced a small stack of books to the side- “And comparing them to what Grandmamae said about him. It doesn't add up.” 

 

“He's old,” Amaryllis reasoned, “Maybe he changed from when he was younger.” 

 

“Maybe,” her sister agreed. “I'm just trying to make sense of it. The stories say he created the Veil which left him weak. He needed the orb for some unknown purpose. The mark lets me open and close rifts. Our...vision.” 

 

“He's having me study ancient magic.” 

 

“He only seems to care about  _ us _ ; he was always harsh on the rest of the Dalish.” 

 

“He talks about regretting a lot of things,” Amaryllis added. 

 

“So we have a trickster God who put up the veil to lock away the gods but fell in love with a Dalish woman and left her because he needed to do something with an orb that ultimately latched itself onto his grand-” Amarantha stopped. Her eyes went wide as understanding dawned on her. Her breath hitched and she looked at Rilly with shock and awe and realization. 

 

Amaryllis looked concerned. “Sister?” 

 

“I know what he wants.” 

 

“You do?” 

 

Amarantha blinked and looked at her hand, tears in her eyes. “He locked away the gods. Centuries later he wakes up and wants to use his orb. He's too weak. He meets Grandmamae- a  _ total accident.  _ We weren't meant to exist. He leaves, and finds Corypheus because he knows that Corypheus can open the orb- which should have killed him and allowed Solas to wield the power that  _ opens holes in the veil _ so that he-” 

 

“Could tear down the Veil,” they answered together, wide eyes meeting in horror at their revelation. 

 

“ _ That's  _ what he wants?” Amaryllis gasped, aghast. “That's stupid! Why would he undo what he did?”

 

“Maybe he needs them? Or maybe he wants to actually destroy them? Or simply undo it? I don't know,” Amarantha said, her heart racing as she registered that she suddenly, finally _ understood. “ _ But I know this: we can't let him do that. We saw what happened with the Breach. Tearing down the Veil would be even more disastrous!” 

 

“What do we do?” Amaryllis exclaimed, fear gripping her. She'd long suspected that what Solas was up to wasn't good, but now she knew his plan. The reason wasn't clear, but she knew that no reason would be able to justify his actions. Her heart sank. 

 

Amarantha looked equally despondent as she whispered, “I don't know.” 

  
  


_ \----------------- _

 

One thing she  _ did _ know to do was talk to Cullen. She dreaded bringing up Solas  _ again _ , but if she and Rilly were correct, then he was planning something truly dangerous. 

 

_ And I've asked my sister to trick him. The fucking trickster God himself! Creators, what have I done?!  _

 

She found Cullen in his office and at her distraught state he dropped everything and rushed to her. Guiding him back to the desk, she told him everything. She spoke softly, holding his hands as she revealed what she and her sister had realized together. She told him of the shared vision, and of the myths and comments Solas had made to backup her claim. Cullen looked stricken. 

 

“Maker,” he breathed, slipping one hand from his wife’s to rub his head in his hands. He felt a headache coming on, and not for the first time, he cursed Solas. 

 

Sinking down, Amarantha squeezed his other hand. “I'm sorry,” she whispered, “I'm sorry I brought this on us.” 

 

Cullen caught her chin in his hand. “You have done  _ nothing _ ,” he stressed. “You didn't know who he was. You couldn't help it even if you had. You worked to save what he nearly destroyed. He has a lot of nerve to keep trying after he nearly got his own granddaughters killed!”

“If I hadn't pursued things-”

 

“Then we would be ignorant of his deeds and when the time came, defenseless.” 

 

“You're taking this rather well.” 

 

“It's terrifying,” Cullen admitted, “Especially now we've a child on the way. But this is what we do: we protected the world as the Inquisition; we protect those who need us as New Haven, and we will protect the world from Solas or the Dread Wolf and whatever we is trying to accomplish by tearing down the Veil.” Cullen shuddered and let his head fall back. “Maker, not more demons.” 

 

“I've a feeling demons will be the least of our worries,” she sighed. “I've got to talk to Leliana. I know the Inquisition is dissolved, but we have to be on the lookout. Do you think she would allow a secret reinstatement of the Inquisition, solely to investigate matters?”

 

“It would have to be secret,” Cullen agreed. “Who knows if Solas has ways of spying on us.” 

 

“We can't trust anyone but the Inner Circle,” she agreed. “No one from the outside. As far as the and the rest of the world knows, the war is over and all we are focused on is rehabilitation.”

 

Cullen nodded in agreement. “I'll go with you to see her,” he said, “We’ll make it our honeymoon.” 

 

“We  _ didn't  _ actually get one,” she agreed thoughtfully. “That can be the explanation; Rilly can stay here and continue her training.” 

 

“Is it safe to leave her with him?” 

 

“If she pulls away now, he'll suspect.”

 

“True.” 

 

Amarantha stood with less grace than normal, and rested a hand on her swelling stomach. “Well, let's go pack. We have a honeymoon to plan for.” 

 

\---------------

 

A flourish of a pen swept over parchment, and it was done. 

 

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” 

 

Bull lifted the parchment to study the three signatures. His, Dorian’s and Calpernia’s, notarizing the document and making it official. 

 

“If you're having second thoughts-” 

 

The parchment was jerked from his grip and handed to Calpernia, who snickered at their banter. She'd not realized they were together until Bull had shown up with Dorian and moved in without a word. She'd been surprised, and a little hesitant about the relationship, but then she'd actually gotten to know Bull, outside of her imprisonment in Skyhold, and had found him to be quite charming. They suited each other, and Calpernia had silently vowed to be their biggest champion. 

 

“I am  _ not,” _ he huffed. “I'm just saying. We haven't pissed anyone off yet so I'm a little disappointed no one burst in with flames and pitchforks vying for our heads.” 

 

“That's hardly romantic,” Calpernia remarked as she filed away the document in the back of the book and placed it on a shelf no one would think to search. 

 

“I gave him the  _ tooth of a dead dragon _ as a sign of my love,” Dorian remarked, “Killing something together is  _ exactly _ the Qunari kind of romantic.” 

 

“He's not wrong,” Bull said, pulling Dorian to him for a kiss. They'd exchanged simple silver rings, and signed the parchment, and they were wed. An elopement of sorts, just like his dear friend had done some months prior. 

 

“I suppose not,” Calpernia grinned as she gave them their moment. When Bull kept kissing his husband, Calpernia rolled her eyes and pried the two men away from each other. “Celebrate your union in your own home,” she laughed, “I still have work to do and I don't want to do it while listening to the two of you!” 

 

She moved to her desk and pulled a bottle out from underneath it and held it out for Dorian to take. “Best bottle I could afford. Get drunk and enjoy yourselves.” 

 

Dorian took the bottle, then caught Calpernia's hand and kissed her knuckles. She'd become a great friend since their return to Tevinter, and it dawned on Dorian just how similar they were. Both had wanted to help their country. One had been blinded by an evil man and his promises of greatness and glory. Now she lived a humble life as a banished prisoner of the Inquisition. Some in Tevinter labeled her as a traitor regardless, but she took it all in stride, recalling how she'd once been led astray, but had found her way back. 

 

“You are my redemption,” she'd told Dorian one day. “Thanks to you, and the Inquisition, I have a life. I hope I am doing enough with it.” 

 

She pulled her hand away. “Go on now. You're a married man! Stop wasting time with me!”

 

He gave her a soft nod and mouthed ‘thank you’, then he and Bull were gone. 

 

They barely made it through the door of their home before they were upon one another. Bull shoved Dorian against the door, pressing against him as they kissed with frantic abandon. 

 

“You're finally mine,” Dorian breathed in awe as he held Bull’s face in his hands. “No one can take you from me.” 

 

“As if I'd let them,” Bull breathes, pressing kisses to Dorian’s nose, cheeks, mouth, and neck. The Mage groaned in delight as he ground against Bull, who chuckled even as his own breathing was labored, and desire shown in his eye. 

 

“I think we should skip the wine and enjoy ourselves first,” Bull remarked, pulling at the latches and fastenings of Dorian’s outfit, who was repeating the same with Bull’s trousers. 

“Yes, let's.” 

 

Plucking another kiss from his lips, Bull dragged Dorian to their bedroom, and pushed the Mage onto the bed before joining him, hungry and desperate. Pinning Dorian down, he kissed him thoroughly, then whispered, “I wanna try something new tonight.” 

 

“Oh?” Dorian seemed intrigued through the haze of arousal. “And what’s that?” 

 

“I want to make love to my husband.” 

 

Dorian paused at that, moved to the point of tears. “Yes, you are my husband, aren't you,” he whispers dreamily, as if he couldn't believe it were real. A small part of him  _ couldn't  _ believe it was real. 

 

“I am. And you're mine.” 

 

Dorian gave him a loving look, then as quickly as the moment took them, it passed, and he shifted his hips against Bull and whispered cheekily, “Well then? What are you waiting for?” 

 

\---------------

 

Josephine stood on her balcony, looking out over the goings on of New Haven. In the distance, she could see Lord Adorno Ciel Otranto talking to some other nobles. She sighed. Her feelings for the man were….confusing at best. She  _ was _ fond of him, once she managed to get past his foppish demeanor, and he seemed genuinely invested in supporting New Haven. 

 

It could all be for show, she knew. It could be a way to sneak his way in and then he could prove to be unbearable and cruel. Not that Leliana’s information about him had proven such things. No, he seemed to be rather the philanthropist, and a bit of a ladies man, but she'd kept tabs on him since his arrival, and other than polite discourse, he's been nothing short of a gentleman. 

 

Amarantha didn't mind him either, which was another point in his favor. 

 

She watched as the group with whom he was talking dispersed, and he walked off, stopping short when he saw a group of children playing, and a little girl sitting by herself. Josie had been so wrapped up in watching Adorno that she'd missed the children, and the little girl seemed to be upset. She was holding a small ball and it looked as if she'd been forbidden to play with the boys who were rough housing and play fighting some feet away. Adorno knelt down to the girl and they seemed to talk for several minutes before Adorno stood and rushed away. Confused, Josephine watched and waited, and after a few moments the man returned, holding what looked like two apples. He held out his hand for the ball, and the girl gave it to him, and both she and Josephine gasped in delight when Adorno began to juggle them. 

 

The girl clapped and laughed as she watched him, and when he finished he promptly sat on the ground, dirt messing his otherwise fine clothes, and proceeded to show the little girl how to juggle. They started with two, and moved to three, and though she didn't quite master it, she managed to catch the items once before dropping them and laughed in delight at her slight accomplishment. One of the teachers then began calling all the children back for dinner, and Adorno stood, and gave the girl a delicate kiss on her knuckles before sending her off with the rest of her peers. 

 

He brushed himself off and went on his way, oblivious to the spectator that had witnessed the whole thing. Josephine's hand moved to rest on her heart, which was suddenly thudding wildly. 

 

_ Perhaps…. he is not so bad.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I freaking love Dorian and Bull, you guys. So much. And I'm so glad they're finally happy and together! 
> 
> Adorno is the guy you duel when courting Josephine in the game. I actually kinda liked him though, and wanted to explore him a little bit and let them try things out. Like with Calpernia, who I've also embraced and expanded upon a little, I think there are so many awesome characters in this game that I wish we could get to know more. Ah well. That's why we have fanfic.


	56. Sweet as Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra and Varric discuss names; Leliana offers some advise; Amarantha tries a new approach; Mia learns a lot.

Chapter 56: Sweet as Honey   


 

Leliana had been distressed by the news regarding Solas, but she took it in stride. 

 

“Yes, we will definitely reinstate the Inquisition,” she agreed as they met in her private chambers. To the rest of the world, Cullen and Amarantha were taking a brief honeymoon before the arrival of their child. The world rejoiced at the thought of the child, and bets were being made over the sex and the name. 

 

“Only the Inner Circle. And only as it relates to Solas,” Amarantha clarified. “I hate to even ask it. But-” 

 

“Nonsense. I am happy to help. I have two spies here who I know can be trusted. I will give them some information and have them keep an eye out. We are spread out as well; Kirkwall, Val Royeaux, Tevinter. Little will happen without our being aware.” 

 

It put Amarantha at ease knowing Leliana was so calm about matters. She handled it with ease and grace and Amarantha felt herself relax knowing that no matter what, her friends would be ready to help. 

 

Three days later she returned home and asked Rilly to relay a message to Solas. 

 

“Your plan to win back his love and trust is wise,” Leliana had said thoughtfully. “Better to catch flies with honey than vinegar, as they say. Do not go too long without issuing an invitation. It will keep him distracted, especially if he thinks he's winning you over. He may try to recruit you if you play your cards right.” 

 

_ “Sister says she would like to see you,” Rilly said at the end of their lesson. “She said she'd come here, but the baby makes her sick and tired and so she just sleeps instead of coming to the Fade.”  _

 

_ “I will gladly go to her,” Solas replied sincerely. “She need not trouble herself, especially if she is unwell. Are there any complications?”  _

 

_ Rilly shook her head. “She's healthy, so the healer says. Just tired and gets sick some.” _

 

_ “If she is well enough tomorrow evening, I shall pay her a visit.”  _

 

_ “Okay!” Amaryllis said, “She said to meet her on the battlements. She's been getting really hot and sleeping outside to stay cool.” _

 

_ “I will be there.”  _

 

\-------------------

 

“You're up late.” 

 

Cassandra looked up from her paperwork to see Varric standing in the doorway. They shared an office, partly due to their desire to be near one another and partly because there was little space to accommodate them otherwise. 

 

Cassandra had adapted to Kirkwall and pregnancy beautifully. She was having an easy time, her only stress coming from her work as a representative of the Chantry. But it was enough stress to keep her up late, and tonight she'd been trying to settle a dispute between some higher up Chantry officials on Divine Victoria’s behalf. 

 

_ If only I could punch them in the face. That would settle matters.  _

 

“I'm not tired.” 

 

“Yeah, bullshit.” 

 

Cassandra sighed. “The bed isn't comfortable. Or rather,  _ I  _ can't get comfortable.” 

 

Hands wrapped around weary shoulders and massaged. Cassandra sighed. “Anything I can do?” 

 

“Go about three inches down and- ah, yes!”

 

Varric chuckled. “You know, I never thought I'd be in this position.”

 

“What? Massaging an unattractively pregnant woman in the middle of the night?” 

 

A kiss pressed to her neck. “Happy.” 

 

Cassandra sobered and turned her head to meet his. “Well, aches and pains aside, I'm happy too.” 

 

Their lips met, and thoughts of Chantry disputes fled Cassandra’s mind. She relaxed as warmth flooded her, and after several blissful moments, their kiss ended. 

 

“I've been thinking,” Varric murmured. Cassandra groaned. 

 

“Hey now!” Varric said as he tugged on his wife’s hand and led her out of the office. Kirkwall was improving- slowly but surely- and rumor was beginning to swirl of Varric being named viscount. Neither she nor Varric entertained the idea, instead focusing on their work and letting the rumor do as it wished. 

 

“What have you been thinking about?” Cassandra asked as they entered their bedroom. The room was tiny but cozy, perfect for the two of them. It surprised Cassandra how much Kirkwall had become home. It would never compare to Skyhold- she missed the castle dearly- but she found she was happy here. She'd met interesting people, including several of Varric’s friends from old adventures. That reminded of her of something she wanted to talk to Varric about as well…

 

“Well, we haven't exactly discussed what we’re gonna call the kid,” he nodded toward her expanding stomach. “And I have an idea for a name.” 

 

Cassandra blinked. She'd had her own idea. But she waited patiently for Varric to continue, as he'd brought it up first. 

 

“I don't want our kid to have a dumb name,” he said, “I name characters all the time, and names need to  _ mean  _ something. So,”  He moved to sit on the bed, “I thought, if we have a son, we could name him Anthony.” 

 

Cassandra's breath hitched. A hand lifted to cover her mouth and she felt tears prickle at her eyes. Varric instantly looked concerned and so she moved to sit next to him and hug him. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then after a moment let out a small laugh. “I had an idea of my own.” 

 

“Oh?” 

 

“Hawke.” 

 

Varric met her eyes, now wet as well. “Anthony Hawke?” 

 

“Anthony Hawke Pentaghast-Tethras.” 

 

“Maker, what a mouthful!” Varric laughed, then sobered as Cassandra wiped a tear away from his cheek. “Yeah. The two most important people in our lives. I think it's a good name.” 

 

“A strong name,” Cassandra agreed. “Are we agreed?” 

 

“I think so,” Varric replied, taking his wife's hand in his. “And I think Hawke would  _ hate _ it.” 

 

Cassandra laughed. “All the more reason to do it, hmm?” 

 

“Absolutely.” 

 

\----------------

 

Amarantha stood on the battlements, hands resting on the stone as she looked out over Skyhold. Despite that it was now called New Haven, she couldn’t quite bring herself to call it as such in her own thoughts. In some ways, this place would always be Skyhold to her. Not only had she found love, friends, and family here, not only was it home, but it was a part of her past. Her grandmother had walked these halls once, had been loved here. In some ways she wanted to keep it Skyhold because it kept a small part of her grandmother alive. Amarantha sighed. What would she give to speak to her grandmother one last time! To ask her about Solas; to hear her grandmother explain what she’d seen in the Dread Wolf and how she could have forgiven him for leaving her.  _ How deeply must you have loved him to defend him so. _

 

Shifting her weight, Amarantha leaned a little further against the stone. She felt a little queasy, but she knew she couldn’t blame that entirely on her pregnancy. She was nervous about talking to Solas, especially now. He was dangerous, more than she’d ever imagined. Had her grandmother known how dangerous he was? He  _ was _ the Dread Wolf after all. 

 

“Hello, Amarantha.” 

 

Turning, Amarantha held her fear in check as she looked upon her grandfather. Knowing his plan made her feel apprehensive, but she steeled herself and recalled Leliana’s words.  _ Honey, not vinegar.  _

 

“Good evening,” she replied, taking a few small steps forward. 

 

Solas glanced down at her stomach; she was not showing a great deal, but those who knew of her condition could see the change taking place if they looked. “You look well.” 

 

“I feel well,” she replied, then added a small, “Mostly.” 

 

“I am pleased you asked to see me,” Solas replied as he closed the distance between them, gesturing for Amarantha to sit. She did so, sliding down the stone wall carefully, and when she was settled Solas joined her. 

 

“I would have come sooner but-” she gestured to her stomach. “Between this and New Haven-” 

 

“You need not explain yourself,” Solas told her. “Your sister has already informed me that you are tired. You should not over tax yourself, Amarantha.” 

 

She offered him a smirk and a dry look. “Yes,  _ grandfather _ .” 

 

It was said teasingly, but hearing her refer to him as such, even so casually, touched his heart. Reaching out, he let his hand rest over hers that lay between them. “Was there something you wanted to discuss?” 

 

“Yes, actually,” Amarantha said, forcing her hand not to tense under his own. “I…” She sighed, then did pull away gently as she turned to face him. “I’m still angry,” she said, and she gave him an almost apologetic look. “But, with the baby… I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And… I don’t think it’s fair for me to stay mad at you for leaving if I in turn prevent you from ever knowing your great-granddaughter.” 

 

Solas’ look was one of humble joy. “You want me in the child’s life?” 

 

Amarantha nodded. “Like I said. Now that I have a child of my own it...put some things into perspective. I’m still upset. But I’m working through it. And… I suppose at the end of the day, we  _ did _ stop Corypheus, and you  _ did _ help us. And…” she took a shaky breath and allowed the tears to begin welling. “You missed out on my mother. You barely got to know Rilly and I. This is your third chance. You can be there from the beginning. She can know you from the start. Maybe not  _ all _ of you, not until she’s older, but you can be here. For her. The way you weren’t able to be before.” 

 

She reached out and this time took Solas’ hand in hers. “I’m working on forgiving you. It will take time. But I don’t want to lose you entirely. I don’t know what it is you’re doing or what you’re looking for, but please,” she begged, “Don’t look over what you have here. You can be a part of this. I  _ want _ you to be a part of this. My child should have her family.” 

 

Moved to tears, Solas reached forward and took Amarantha into his arms, hugging her carefully to him. She held him in return, and he breathed her in, this young woman who was so lovely and bright. She was the true  _ solas _ , his true pride and joy. 

 

“I have not lost you after all,” he breathed, “I was still so certain I had.” 

 

“I did too,” she whispered, “But... “ she pulled away and leaned over, pulling out the journal from a small bag she’d brought with her. She placed the journal on her lap. “I keep reading this. And she  _ loved _ you. I just… I trusted her with everything else. I think perhaps I should trust her when it comes to you too.” 

 

She fiddled with the strap for a moment, then handed the journal over. “I talked to Rilly. We want you to have it.” 

 

Wordlessly, Solas took the journal from her and opened it. He’d had a chance to glance at it once before, but now he carefully flipped through the pages, absorbed in the words of the woman he’d loved so dearly and lost so soon. 

 

He read a passage aloud, looking up in surprise when Amarantha quoted it along with him. Her head was tilted back, eyes closed and her hands rested against her stomach. She looked like her grandmother, and Solas’ heart ached at the opportunity he’d lost. “I’ve read it a lot,” she whispered after a while. “Maybe it’s time you had a chance to read it too.” 

 

“Ma serannas.” 

 

Amarantha smiled softly in reply. 

 

Solas closed the book, but kept his hands on the cover, as if releasing it would be losing Albizia all over again. He glanced to his granddaughter. 

 

“You truly want me in the child’s life?” 

 

She nodded. “Maybe not as a great-grandfather. Like you said, you don’t look the part.” She offered him a soft, amused look. “Maybe an uncle? Until she’d older enough to understand.” 

 

He gave a small sound of approval. “You have a point. Uncle will do.” 

 

She nodded and once again closed her eyes as she leaned her head back against the stone. Solas watched her for a long moment, the young woman who had taken his power and earned the right to wield it. Not just anyone was capable of using such power, and he was continually impressed with her improving mastery over what should have been his. 

 

In truth, he could not begrudge her his magic. Not really; not anymore. 

 

Eventually she sighed and stood. Solas followed and helped her steady herself once she was upright. “I should go,” she said. “But this was-” she hesitated, then finished, “Nice.” 

 

“I am merely pleased you no longer look ready to kill me.”

 

Amarantha scoffed. “As if I could.” 

 

“You underestimate yourself. You are more powerful than you know.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

His brow rose. “Do you?” 

 

She smirked. “You have your secrets. I have mine.” 

 

He regarded her for a long moment, studying her sly expression. She used to tease him and it felt as if perhaps she was slipping back into old habits, which pleased him greatly. 

 

“Speaking of secrets,” he said, nodding toward her stomach, “Have you and the commander chosen a name?” 

 

Amarantha nodded. “We have. But I won't tell you.” 

 

“Oh?” 

 

“You'll have to come back when the baby is born, if you really want to know.” 

 

It was an invitation to return, a reiteration of her offer to have him involved in the child's life. 

 

“Then I will wait with eager anticipation for the child to be born.” 

 

“You and me both,” she muttered dryly. 

 

Surprised, Solas laughed at that, then took her hand in his and kissed it. “Until then,” he whispered, then he vanished. Amarantha eyes the empty space he'd once occupied and let her hand fall to her side. Letting out a breath, she returned to her earlier position of leaning over the stone wall, relishing in the cool night air. 

 

_ He seems so eager to be a part of the family. But he's making plans to tear down the Veil. He clearly isn't strong enough. But he's going to try to use Rilly- that's why he's training her. But why? And what could killing Mythal have to do with it? _

 

Her hand lifted to touch her face. Her cheeks were long bare of the branches that had once defined her devotion to the mother goddess. She'd often wondered why Mythal had ignored her prayers and now wondered if it was because of who she was. But, she'd been kind, when they'd met at the altar. 

 

She'd been so angry at the gods then. In a way she still was. For so long she'd entrusted her faith in the gods and had been let down at numerous turns. In truth, other than Mythal’s assistance with the dragon, the only God who had helped her had been the Dread Wolf himself. 

 

The thought made her shiver. 

 

Had the gods turned their back on her and her family because of who they were? Was that why so much death and destruction happened at the expense of her clan and all the innocent lives taken by this inane war?

 

_ It doesn't matter,  _ she thought decidedly _ , I don't need the creators. I am the descendant of the Dread Wolf himself, and I will do what the creators couldn't: I will keep this world safe.  _ Her hands moved to rest on her stomach.  _ Most importantly, I will keep you safe, Allegra Albizia Lavellan.  _

 

With a sigh, Amarantha turned, startling when she saw Mia standing several feet away. She looked confused, biting her lip as if otherwise she might start shouting. Tears were in her eyes. 

 

“Who was that man?” 

 

Amarantha looked at her sister-in-law, dread crawling over her and leaving her skin chilled. She swallowed and stepped to Mia. 

 

“It isn't what you think,” she said softly, and when Mia went to protest, Amarantha cut her off, “It's not. Cullen knows I'm here. But I suppose I owe you a long overdue explanation.”

 

Amarantha took a breath and said, “There's a lot about me you don't know. Come and sit. And I'll explain everything.” 

 

She did. She told Mia the whole story, of how she came to the conclave, had become friends with an elf man who she loved dearly like a father figure. How he'd left under strange circumstances. She talked about the journal and how the friend she'd made was in truth her grandfather and a living elven God. She told Mia the reason she wielded the mark so well was because it was  _ his  _ and due to his blood in her veins, it obeyed her as well. 

 

For once, Mia was silent, listening with a mixed expression of horror and confusion as Amarantha spoke. It felt good, she had to admit once it was all out, finally telling someone she loved and respected the truth. She'd hated keeping secrets from Mia, and she told her that as well. 

 

Mia was oddly thoughtful when she spoke. “That is… a lot to digest.” 

 

Amarantha let out a soft laugh. “Oh, trust me. I know.” 

 

“And Cullen knows,” she asked suspiciously. “All of this?” 

 

“He knows everything. He knew before we became engaged. We think my grandfather is up to something, but that's a matter I cannot speak about lest it put you at risk.” 

 

Mia tensed. “And you're letting him come around?!” 

 

“We have no choice. If we want to know what he's doing, I have to keep him close.” 

 

“That's awfully dangerous.” 

 

“Letting him run wild and free is more so, trust me.” 

 

Mia oddly pensive as she sat and considered everything Amarantha had told her. “I admit I'm a little…” 

 

“You have every right to be upset with me. I have been lying to you.” 

 

Mia waved her hand dismissively. “Oh I'm not concerned with that. I mean, I  _ don’t like it _ , but I certainly understand  _ why _ you felt you needed to keep it secret. I would have done the same. My mind is only reeling because it's a little scary, knowing this whole war was started because of someone who is technically a distant relation now, in a way. And that I'm friends with a god.” 

 

“I'm not a god.”

 

“You're still powerful; that’s not insignificant.”

 

“You knew I had magic though.” 

 

Mia couldn't argue there. “I suppose I did. It's just strange. I suppose in some ways I’ve always viewed you as this illustrious Inquisitor, even as I got to know you. There’s an air about you that is so enthralling. I suppose learning about your past just reaffirms what I’ve always sort of regarded you as: utterly special.” She paused and blew out a huff of air. “Did Cullen have a hard time wrapping his head around it all?” 

 

“Oh absolutely,” Amarantha confirmed, “He still struggles.  _ I _ still struggle. But, please; I know I’m a….lot to take in. But I desperately want us to be friends, no matter what madness may accompany me.” 

 

“Oh, don’t worry, I like you too much to be scared away  _ that _ easily!” Mia remarked with a laugh, “If Cullen can handle this, so can I!” 

 

“Thank you,” Amarantha said as she leaned over to hug Mia. “It’s such a relief to have that off my chest!”

 

“I’m sure,” Mia replied as she returned the hug, “It was certainly enlightening!” 

 

“Hopefully still better than thinking I would stray from your brother?” 

 

Mia laughed. “Oh I don't know! If that had been the case I could have just smacked you a few times and ran and told my brother,” she giggled. “But I am glad it's not that.” 

 

“You know I love Cullen, right?” 

 

“ _ Everyone _ knows you love Cullen,” Mia deadpanned. “You two make eyes at each other any time you're within eyesight of the other!” 

 

“Can you blame me?” Amarantha asked as she led her sister to Cullen’s office, “He's quite dashing.” 

 

“If you say so,” Mia teased, linking their arms. “Goodness this was quite the evening!” 

 

“You can say that again.” 

 

“Any other secrets I should know about?” 

 

“Amaryllis is actually my daughter.” 

 

Mia looked at her sharply, blinking once, twice, before the grin on Amarantha's face let her know she was teasing. 

 

“You are not funny.” 

 

“I'm a  _ little  _ funny.” 

 

Mia rolled her eyes and they made their way to Cullen’s office. When inside, Cullen was in the middle of a game of chess with Cole while Amaryllis watched with intense focus. After a moment Cullen looked up and gave his wife a wary look. 

 

“How was your… meeting?” 

 

“It's okay. Mia knows.” 

 

Cullen blinked. “Wh-”

 

“I saw her with another man and  _ might _ have assumed the worst,” Mia replied sheepishly. “I got a little more than I bargained for.” 

 

“We weren't going to say-” 

 

“I'm not letting your sister think I'm unfaithful to you,” Amarantha said as she moved to stand behind Cole, studying the board. Mia joined her a moment later, then bent over and moved a piece for him. “That trips him up every time,” she said to the boy, who laughed at Cullen’s glare. 

 

“You two keep conspiring against me, I swear.” 

 

“Only in chess,” Mia remarked. 

 

“And Wicked Grace,” added Amarantha. 

 

“And stories about your childhood.” 

 

Cullen groaned and let his head rest in his hands. “Maker preserve me.” 

 

And just like that, their worries and the revelation Mia discovered were gone. It hadn't changed anything, Amarantha realized. It was true perhaps Mia didn't fully understand the extent of what was going on, but it didn't matter. Mia still accepted her with no fuss, and Amarantha understood that perhaps what her ancestry was didn't have to define her. She'd made her own life without the knowledge that she was the Dread Wolf’s descendent. And she could continue to make her own life, regardless of the blood that flowed through her veins. She wasn't  _ just  _ the Dread Wolf’s granddaughter. She was the Inquisitor. She was Lady Lavallen of New Haven. She was the wife of Cullen. Sister to Amaryllis. Mother to Allegra. Friend to many. She was Amarantha Lavallen, daughter of Aster. She was her own person, and wasn’t beholden to anything other than that.  

 

It was a rather freeing thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue to go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	57. Links in the Chain (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Bull fall in love; Amarantha and Solas lay all their cards on the table.

Chapter Fifty-Seven:  Links in the Chain (Epilogue)

 

_ Six Months Later  _

 

Amarantha stood at the gate, bouncing excitedly as she waited. In her arms rested a small bundle, the child lured to sleep by her mother’s rocking. Cullen appeared beside her, stooping down to press a kiss to his daughter’s head. 

 

“Come inside,” he murmured, “They'll be here soon.” 

 

“I want to be the first to greet them,” she replied, “And I want to see my godson.”

 

“As do I,” he laughed, “But standing here won't bring them any quicker.” 

 

As if by spite, a carriage appeared, and Amarantha shot Cullen a smug look. Cassandra had wanted to visit sooner, but a premature birth had kept her and Varric away while she recouped and the child given a chance to grow. Now they were here, and Amarantha couldn't wait to introduce her daughter to them. 

 

Varric exited the carriage first, assisting Cassandra who held her own child in her arms. When the two women saw each other they beamed, moving quickly but carefully to each other. They hugged tightly, careful of their children, then Cassandra peered down to the little girl in Amarantha's arms.

 

“Oh, she is precious!” 

 

“And your son is as handsome as they come!” 

 

“Isn't he though?” Varric said with a proud smirk. “Hawke is going to break hearts.” 

 

“He will be kind and gracious and do no such thing,” Cassandra replied, rolling her eyes as Varric took the girl from Amarantha and cooed at her. 

 

“And look at you, beautiful,” he said, rocking her gently, “Can we finally know your name? Your mama’s been keeping it a secret for way too long.” 

 

“Of course,” Amarantha said as she glanced at Cullen, smiling sweetly at him. “I'd like to introduce you to Allegra,” Amarantha said softly, causing Cassandra to snap her gaze over to the elf with a gasp. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Allegra Albizia,” she smiled, “A mouthful for sure, but I wanted her to be named after the two strongest women I knew.” 

 

Cassandra’s eyes were watery as she wrapped her free arm around Amarantha. “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this! I’d have stopped you!” She tried to sound upset, but was quite clearly touched. “When you said you wanted to tell me in person I was convinced it was because you merely enjoyed making me wait!”

 

“Well, that was part of it,” Amarantha grinned, “But I wanted to tell you in person just how much you mean to me, and that there is no one else I would want to name her after.”

 

“You are a true friend,” Cassandra whispered gently, clearly moved, “Never have I received such an honor.” 

 

“It was the least I could do,” Amarantha said as she gently took Hawke from Cassandra. “And you,” she cooed, making silly faces at the smiling boy, “Look at you, mister Hawke. My handsome boy. Goodness you look just like your father!” 

 

Hawke giggled and gurgled at his godmother, and the four parents moved inside as they cooed over the future they’d created. 

 

They settled in with ease, and eventually gathered together to catch up in the gardens. Amaryllis and Cole took the children and began playing with them, Rilly the ever adoring aunt to Allegra, and Cole making silly faces and goofy voices to Hawke, who soaked up the attention with the same ease and delight as his father. The others watched them play with the babies, and Cassandra asked after the young couple across from them. 

 

“They’re  _ adorable _ ,” Amarantha gushed, “It’s clearly a first love; they’re so awkward and clumsy and uncertain, but they both are absolutely smitten with one another. I admit, it reminds me of how I was around Cullen.” 

 

Cullen flushed. “I think I was far more awkward than those two!” 

 

“You were,” Varric agreed, earning a dry look from the commander. “What?!” 

 

It was wonderful how easy things seemed to fall back into place. Amarantha enjoyed the afternoon with her friends, showing them all the changes that had come upon New Haven since they last were there. 

 

Things were going well; New Haven was prospering, serving as a city-state under Chantry jurisdiction. Amarantha was still the head, and was now trying to get used to hearing herself called Lady Lavellan. She'd not taken Cullen’s last name out of a desire to preserve her own heritage, something Cullen had agreed to with a sense of pride, and there was something so satisfying about walking into a room and hearing a chorus of children greet her with, “Good Morning Lady Lavallen.” 

 

But while things seemed well on the surface, Amarantha still had cause for worry: Solas had been suspiciously quiet, and it made Amarantha worry. Amaryllis had nothing to report either, saying Solas was being more cryptic than usual, which the sisters took to mean he might be onto something. They were on high alert, but as she and talked with her friends, watched her daughter and sister, she felt herself begin to relax a little. 

 

Dorian and Bull would be arriving in a couple days, and then things would be right as they should be. Thoughts of Solas would be pushed aside, and she could pretend once more that she was nothing more than the keeper of New Haven. 

  
  


\----------------------------

 

“ _ Dorian!” _

 

_ “Amarantha!”  _

 

The two collided into each other, hugging tightly as Dorian spun the elf around. She laughed in delight and held fast to her friend before being set down and having the same embrace given to her by Bull. 

 

“I've missed you so much!” She declared as she held onto the Qunari tightly. 

 

“Missed you too, Boss,” he said, the old title now a term of affection. 

 

Dorian was already upon the others, going back and forth between Hawke and Allegra, cooing and tickling them, proclaiming that Uncle Dorian would soon be their favorite person ever. 

 

Bull laughed. “He's been talking of  _ nothing _ the whole way here except meeting those two.” The affection on Bull’s face was clear as day as he watched his husband. 

 

“He's going to spoil them  _ rotten.”  _

 

_ “ _ Give him ten minutes and I guarantee you'll be right.”

 

Amarantha instructed some of the older children to take the couple’s bags to their room. Their old room in the tavern was no longer available, so they were going to be staying in one of the executive rooms in the New Haven main hall. The tavern had been modified into a classroom and dorms for some of the older children, the tavern proper now located in a smaller, more intimate corner of New Haven. Amarantha had been adamant that the children not have easy access to alcohol, so it was kept out of the way, but was still a favorite place for many of the adults who now took up residence in the city-state. 

 

The group moved to the room where many a game of Wicked Grace had been played for some privacy. Settling in, they all began to talk, catching up on things from the past year. Bull bounced Hawke on his knee while Dorian hugged Allegra to him, unable to take his eyes off her for more than a moment. 

 

“How are the Chargers?” Amarantha asked, “I admit I miss them terribly.” 

 

“Oh they're great,” Bull said. “Sorry they couldn't come with us, but they're going to make the trip once this current job is finished.” 

 

“Good!” Amarantha exclaimed, “It'll be like old times.” 

 

“Hopefully not entirely,” Dorian remarked, running one hand through his hair, “I've enough on my plate as it is without  _ more  _ insane magisters.” 

 

“Speaking of,” Cullen asked, “How is Calpernia faring?” 

 

“Positively thriving,” Dorian said, “Banishment suits her. Any influence of Corypheus is shaken and she works with an intensity that rivals Josephine. She wanted to tell you hello, by the way. I’ve a letter from her in my bag. It’s a thank you, of sorts. But, I’ve been meaning to ask, now that I’ve mentioned it, where is our delightful diplomat?” 

 

“She’s visiting her family. With her fiance,” Amaryllis replied with a laugh. At Dorian’s look of shock, she replied, “We can't believe it either.” 

 

“It was an arranged marriage,” Cullen explained. “She was not fond of it, but he arrived a few months back to assist with New Haven efforts and they got on surprisingly well.”

 

“He's a bit foppish,” Amarantha admitted, “Not used to working and certainly not used to having a woman so opinionated around, but he's done well and grew extremely fond of Josephine. And the children  _ love _ him. He’s meeting her family, officially. The wedding is going to be in the winter.” 

 

“Well I'll be damned,” Bull said, “We're all pairing off.”

 

“But not you, my dear sweet little angel,” Dorian cooed to Allegra, “You're not ever going to be interested in boys. Or girls. Or anyone. You're going to stay little and pure and never grow up because I won't allow it.” He pinched her cheeks lightly, and the girl made a face. “You’re too cute to grow up.” 

 

“I don't think you have much say in that,” Cullen laughed, “But I agree entirely with your sentiment.” 

 

“Oh please,” Bull laughed, “Those two,” he pointed to Allegra and Hawke, “Are gonna be each other's first loves. I'll place money on it.” 

 

Amarantha considered it and looked at Cassandra with an amused look. “Well, we  _ could _ do worse.” 

 

“I suppose someone named after me can't be  _ too _ bad,” she teased back. “But I want to enjoy him being little for a while before I start marrying him off.” 

 

“I hear you,” Amarantha agreed, looking fondly at her daughter. 

 

\-----------------------------

  
  


Several weeks later found Dorian and Bull walking hand in hand, eyeing the children and workers who made New Haven thrive. They’d been enjoying the leisure of their visit, and had spent some time visiting locations they’d frequented before to see how they’d changed. Bull was sad that the Herald’s Rest was technically no more, having wanted to revisit the room where he and Dorian had grown so close. But he then looked at the man beside him, and at the simple ring resting on the mage’s finger, and figured the room didn’t matter so much as having Dorian with him did. 

 

They’d been through so much together, to get to this point. It was hard for Bull to believe that he’d joined up with the Inquisition with the purpose of helping- at the orders of his superiors- and had subsequently lost one family, gained another, and had fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with someone he’d never have thought himself compatible. But Dorian had been full of surprises, and underneath the flamboyant and sometimes vain exterior was a man whose heart was full of love and compassion and kindness unlike anything Bull had ever known. He’d never felt so _accepted_ by anyone, and he was consistently amazed and how much love her felt for the man beside him. 

 

“She's done a good thing,” Dorian remarked idly, enjoying the openness he could share with Bull. Things were still tense in Tevinter, though Bull’s presence had helped alleviate some tension. No one was truly fond of the idea of the Qunari being the magistrate’s husband, as word  _ had _ gotten out, but Dorian was slowly changing minds in his own way. It was nothing compared to New Haven however. It's name fitting, both Dorian and Bull felt at ease here, and they passed by several children playing, Mia chasing them and fussing good naturedly. 

 

“She definitely put the place to good use,” Bull said, “These kids seem happy.” 

 

They walked around, no particular destination in mind, before Dorian tugged on Bull’s hand. “Let's go here. See what they've made with the northern towers.” 

 

Bull followed leisurely up the stairs, entering the northern tower behind Dorian who had stopped short at the sight before him. It was a nursery, cribs lining the walls as several Sisters moved about, caring for the infants. Not wanting to disturb them, Dorian turned to leave but was called on by the closest sister. 

 

“Can we help you?” 

 

“Oh, no,” Dorian said softly, “We are visiting. I wasn’t sure what was here, but now I know.” 

 

“Wait. You're the Tevinter mage,” she said, stepping forward. “I remember you-” she glanced up at Bull, “Both of you. You were part of the Inner Circle during the war with Corypheus. I saw you around. I’m Sister Vander, at your service.” 

 

“Pleased to meet you,” Dorian replied, shaking her hand, “We came back to see how things are going.” He looked around. “And it seems to be going well.” 

 

“Oh yes,” the Sister agreed. “Please, come in. Make yourselves at home. We’re always looking for people to come hold the children. They need the connection and attention.” 

 

“There's so many of them,” Dorian breathed, looking at all the cribs, heart lurching at the thought of so many children growing up without parents. 

 

“Oh yes,” Sister Vander said sadly, “And they all have a tragic tale. Many were  _ unexpected-  _  she gave the men a knowing look, “And so their mothers came here for solitude and safety, and left some months later. Several of the older ones were orphaned during the war; all are tragic little creatures. We love them as best we can, but as you can see, we’ve a lot of love to spread between them.” 

 

“But at least they're safe,” Dorian agreed as he moved past cribs, some empty, many occupied. His fingers trailed over the edge before he stopped at a crib and looked inside. He took a sharp breath, then turned to the Sister, “May I?” 

 

“Oh yes please.” 

 

Carefully, he bent down and scooped up a little girl. Dorian cradled her in his arms, and as he looked at the child he felt as if his heart had suddenly bloomed with a love he couldn’t quite name. The child was a small elf girl, with black wisps of hair and the strangest tint of violet in her wide, curious eyes. 

 

“She's so beautiful. What's her name?” He asked as he looked up, surprised to hear his voice quiver. 

 

“Oh,” Sister Vander said sadly, “She's a relatively new addition. Abandoned by her mother in the middle of the night several weeks back. We think it might have been an abusive situation and that’s why she was left the way she was. We’ve simply been calling her Anna.”

 

“Oh,” he said softly, and when he looked at the girl he didn’t see an Anna. He wasn’t certain what he saw exactly, but he couldn’t stop watching the little girl, and after a moment she made a cooing sound and reached up to grab at his mustache. “My, you're a feisty one aren't you,” he laughed, startling when he felt Bull brush a large hand on his back. 

 

“Looks like I've got some competition,” he whispered affectionately as he looked down at the little girl. She cooed and babbled at the sight of Bull, who tapped her nose playfully. She made a content sound, then grabbed his large finger in her tiny hands and began gumming it happily. 

 

Dorian took a shaking breath. “I’m afraid you might.” 

 

“Well, we've been talking about adopting a kid,” Bull murmured as he teased the little girl, making a face at her and basking in the gurgling laugh. “And what do you know, she likes me!” 

 

“Of course she does,” Dorian breathed, then turned and looked at Bull, eyes full of awe and wonder and confusion. He hadn’t expected to be struck with such an intense love so suddenly, from the way his voice trembled as he breathed, “Bull, I-” 

 

“Shh,” he soothed him, the hand on his back gently rubbing him in a soothing manner. “I know. And if this is what you want-” 

 

“I- it is,” Dorian said hurriedly, feeling a rush of blood to his head as the reality of what was happening caught up to him. “I... want to be her father.” 

 

“Then I want to be her papa,” Bull replied, using the title Dorian had once mentioned during their discussion of children. Tears slid down the mage’s cheeks as he looked to the little girl, his heart bursting with love. 

 

“Hello there, dear one,” he whispered, “You’re going to be our daughter.” 

 

\---------------------------------

 

Upon leaving the nursery, the couple moved immediately back to their quarters, where Dorian began to frantically pace around the room. 

 

“We can’t do this-” 

 

“Well if you don’t want-” 

 

“But did you see her? We _have_ to do this!” 

 

“I’m perfectly fine-” 

 

“We’re not ready to be parents!” 

 

“I don’t think anyone ever-” 

 

“But did you  _ see _ her, Bull?!” 

 

“Dorian?” 

 

Dorian continued to pace and argue with himself. Bull waited with amused patience as Dorian worked out his internal dilemma, then finally called out a little more forcefully, “ _ Dorian!”  _

 

The mage stopped. “What?” 

 

Bull approached Dorian and rested his hands on the other’s shoulders. “I saw the look on your face when you picked her up. You love her. And I do too. I think you became her father the moment you picked her up.” 

 

“Really?” 

 

“We’ve talked about this for more than a year,” Bull reasoned. “We’re here. She’s here. Petal will support it, you know that as much as I do. All we gotta do is talk to her. But only if you want it.” 

 

“I....” Dorian considered for a moment, “I do. I do!” His face brightened. “I want her. I want her to be my daughter.” 

 

Bull grinned. “I think that settles it then. What’s say we go tell the head lady herself, eh?” 

 

“Wh- now?” 

 

Bull shrugged. “No time like the present.” 

 

Just as quickly as they entered the room, they left, Dorian practically dragging Bull with him. 

 

They asked around and found Amarantha in her office, where she was busy writing and reading correspondence. She looked at ease, her cheeks a little plumper and eyes tired, but overall happy. She’d kept them updated on Solas, though lately there hadn’t been much to report. He was still slowly gaining power, if Amaryllis’ observations were correct, and though he might soon be ready to make a move, it was clear that it was a slow moving process, centuries in the making. 

 

But Solas was the last thing on Dorian’s mind as he knocked briefly and entered Amarantha’s office. She looked up from her work, annoyance on her face that quickly melting away to relief, then worry when she saw the way Dorian looked. 

 

“What did you do?” 

 

“I-” Dorian stopped, his grip on Bull’s hand tightening, “ _ We _ -” he stressed, “Oh, Maker! I’ll just say it: We would like to adopt a little girl in the nursery. They call her Anna.” 

 

Amarantha gaped at him, eyes shifting to look at Bull, who was standing calm and certain, then her eyes drifted back to Dorian, and her slackened jaw shifted into a flabbergasted grin

 

“You want to...adopt?” 

 

“Yes,” Dorian huffed, “The two of us. Plus one. Makes three.” 

 

Her smile only grew. “You’re serious?” She practically squeaked, standing from her desk to move closer to them. Dorian sensed her growing excitement, which only fueled his. 

 

“Yes,” he said, “Oh, you should see her, she’s so little and precious and-” He stopped, “Do you want to see her?” 

 

“Maybe we should wait until she says ‘yes’,” Bull laughed, his own pride evident despite his calmer demeanor. 

 

“What do you mean wait until I say?” Amarantha asked, already pulling Dorian toward the door, “You’re telling me you two want to adopt, and you expect me to say  _ no?  _ Do you know me at all Bull!?” 

 

He laughed again and they followed her toward the door. “I knew you’d say yes. Just thought we might want to go about it proper.” 

 

“Oh, forget proper!” Amarantha declared, “This is  _ wonderful!  _ I can’t believe you’re adopting one of my kids! This is fantastic! Now, take me to my new niece!” 

 

The three of them made their way back to the nursery, and when they entered Sister Vander gave them a knowing smile. “I had a feeling you’d be back,” she remarked as she gestured for them to make themselves at home with one hand while the other held a squirming baby. Dorian moved to the crib that held the little girl and picked her up, cooing at her when she smiled at him. 

 

“Here we are,” Dorian said as he turned so Amarantha could see the tiny elf girl. She gasped. 

 

“Oh, Dorian, she’s beautiful,” Amarantha said as she brushed the little girl’s cheeks. “I remember when she arrived a few weeks back. The poor thing…” She looked up to her dear friend and felt giddiness and pride rush through her, “She’s perfect.” 

 

“She is, isn’t she,” Dorian agreed as Bull wrapped his arm around his husband. 

 

“She’ll make a damn good warrior,” Bull agreed, “She’s strong, I can tell.” 

 

“She’ll be a mage, thank you very much.” 

 

“She’ll be  _ spoiled _ ,” Amarantha grinned at the two of them. “But before she can be  _ anything _ , I have to send a letter to the Chantry. They still handle all the adoption papers, which is frustrating, but it keeps records in one centralized place. But I’ll send it directly to Leliana. She’ll make sure you have all the necessary paperwork as soon as possible.” 

 

“Good,” Bull said, “Because I don’t think I’m going to get him to leave this room until then.” 

 

“Oh, hush you,” Dorian said, “I can’t help it.” 

 

“I know,” Bull grinned, sticking his tongue out at the girl who laughed. “Got a feeling I’ll be right here with you.” 

 

“Well, while you two get to know her,” Amarantha replied, “I’ll write to our dear Divine. You said her name was Anna?” 

 

“Well, that’s what I was told,” Dorian replied, “I don’t think it suits her, personally.” 

 

“If you want to change it, let me know. I’ll go on and start correspondence with Leliana. Just let me know as soon as possible if you decide to give her a different name.” She hugged her friends and smiled at them. “This is the best possible news,” she beamed, “You two are going to be wonderful parents.” 

 

With that she turned and spoke briefly to Sister Vander to arrange for the men to see their daughter whenever they wanted, then headed out. 

 

Dorian and Bull made themselves comfortable in a pair of rocking chairs in the corner, Dorian holding the baby and staring at her quizzically. Finally, he turned to Bull, Dorian gestured to the girl. “Any suggestions?” 

 

“Why me?” 

 

“You named yourself,” Dorian reasoned, “Thought you might be more apt to pick a name that means something.” 

 

Reaching out, Bull took the little girl in his arms. She easily fit in one hand, but he clutched her with both to his chest, studying the girl as she looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. He felt love swell in his heart as he looked into her strange, violet eyes- 

 

“Violet.” 

 

Dorian blinked. “Pardon?” 

 

“Violet Pavus.” 

 

A look of approval spread across Dorian’s face. “Violet Pavus…” he breathed, “It’s perfect.” 

 

\---------------------------------

 

They stayed with Violet until she fell asleep, then helped Sister Vander while a few of the other sister’s fed some of the babies. Sister Vander was delighted. “Best to get in some practice now,” she teased, showing Bull how to change a diaper before the baby messed all over him. 

Once they finished, feeling satisfied, they left to let Amarantha know what they’d decided. She was with the others of their former Inner Circle,  and so the two took the opportunity to announce their plan. 

 

Cassandra was delighted, Varric impressed, and Cullen merely grinned at the happiness the others expressed. Rilly was the most excited of them all, squealing in delight when Bull told her that the child in question was an elf. 

 

. “A little elf?!” She cried, “That’s so exciting!” 

 

News spread quickly over the next few days, especially since Dorian was hard pressed to let Violet stay in the nursery away from them. She slept there at night, but during the day Dorian or Bull would fetch her, and within a few days it was normal to see the two men with the tiny elf girl, cooing over her with utter delight. 

 

“I can hardly believe it,” Varric remarked a few days after the fact, his own son sitting at his feet playing with a deck of cards, drooling on a few of them. 

 

“I think it’s wonderful,” Cassandra gushed as she pulled a card away from Hawke, who promptly threw a fit. “No. Cards are not for eating,” she told her son, unmoved by his temper tantrum. “Dorian has a big heart, whether he wants anyone to know it or not.” 

 

“I think at this point, everyone is aware,” supplied Cullen, who was watching them with appreciation and amusement. “And besides, they definitely deserve it. They’ve done the impossible, after all.” 

 

“In what way?” Amarantha asked. 

 

“They found love with each other in spite of all the reasons why the world said they shouldn’t,” he said with a slight shrug. “I think, it’s wonder that they get to have something the rest of us probably have taken for granted.” 

 

“Point, Curly,” Varric agreed, “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people so happy to have a kid. I know I wasn’t that happy when Hawke was born.” That earned him a smack from Cassandra, who then promptly agreed. 

 

“It’s one thing to have a child,” she remarked, “But to be  _ chosen _ ; that is special indeed.” 

 

“We can hear you, you know!” Dorian called from several feet away. 

 

“Then you’ll know we’re complimenting you,” Cassandra shouted back, “Do not pretend to be insulted when you are not!” 

 

Bull laughed at that, and they moved to join the others. Violet was too little to crawl around with Allegra and Hawke, but the two babies were interested in the newest companion. Dorian introduced Violet to them and watched with fascination as little Allegra gently stroked the baby’s face and cooed and babbled her approval. Hawke was less gentle, his excitement startling poor Violet, but Dorian took it in stride, and told Cassandra not to be too harsh when she scolded the boy for not being careful. It was an idyllic scene, the six members of the Inner Circle with the next generation, and for a moment all was well and good. 

 

\-----------------------

 

Josephine and Adorno arrived a week later to much chaos. It was good chaos, she was quick to discover, as she’d only been inside the gates all of five minutes before she heard talk of “the two men from the Inquisition and their elf daughter”. 

 

Quickly Josephine got to the bottom of matters, and after being happily reunited with Dorian and Bull, she was introduced to Violet, and they introduced to Adorno. 

 

“I’ve heard much about you two,” Adorno said, his Orlesian accent thick but pleasant. “It is an honor to finally meet everyone Josie speaks about so much.” 

 

“And an honor to finally meet the person who managed to catch our dear ambassador’s attention,” Dorian praised, “No small feat, there.” 

 

“Oh, hush, you,” Josie said with a light smack to Dorian’s arm. 

 

Once she was settled, she left Adorno to mingle with the men and she, Cassandra, and Amarantha snuck off to Josie’s office, locked the door, and pulled out some wine. 

 

“It’s been  _ far _ too long since I’ve had a chance to just sit and talk,” Josie sighed with leisure, “I’ve missed this.” 

 

“Indeed,” Cassandra agreed, “It’s refreshing to get away from everything, if only for an hour.” 

 

“I concur,” Amarantha agreed after swallowing a mouthful of wine. 

 

The three women talked idly for a while, catching up with one another and listening as Josie told them of her and Adorno’s visit with her family. 

 

“He got on surprisingly well,” Josie said, “I hate to admit it, but I think I’m becoming quite fond of him.” 

 

“He’s determined to prove himself,” Amarantha agreed, “I’ll look forward to Bull sizing him up to let us know if he’s truly sincere.” 

 

“Leliana thinks he is,” Josie mused, “But you are right. Bull will be able to tell if he’s hiding anything. I admit that’s actually quite a relief!” 

 

“But enough of that,” Josie said with a wave of her hand, “How is Kirkwall, Cassandra?”

 

Cassandra thought for a moment. “Different,” she settled at last. “But certainly not as terrible as I feared it could be.” 

 

“I imagine you've met some of Varric’s old acquaintances?” 

 

“Yes,” Cassandra answered, “We meet regularly to talk, reminisce about Hawke,” she broke off in a slight smile then,’”I only wish I could have gotten to know her better. From the stories, she was a tremendous woman.”

 

“She was indeed,” Amarantha agreed, “We wouldn't be here if it weren't for her. She was the finest of warriors and friends.” 

 

“To Hawke,” Cassandra said as she lifted her goblet. The other two women raised theirs as well. 

 

“To all those who sacrificed everything to help us defeat Corypheus,” Amarantha continued. 

 

“And to the families and friends those brave souls left behind,” finished Josephine. 

 

They drank deep, the evening now somber, but they relished in the quiet ease, grateful to have such a moment to share with one another. Eventually conversation picked back up, and after a while Amaryllis found them and was invited to join them. She was growing up, still the spitting image of her sister, but with her own distinct power lingering just underneath her bright ice-grey eyes. 

 

“I'm sure you hear it too often,” Cassandra remarked to the young elf, “But you are growing up.” 

 

Amaryllis shrugged. “I don't really feel any different,” she said, “I'm taller. And I'm better with magic.” 

 

“You are more changed than you realize,” Josephine remarked diplomatically as ever. “I see you with those little mages, running around. They adore you. Respect you. And you're training them well.” 

 

Amaryllis flushed. “I had a good teacher.” She glanced at her sister and offered her a sad, apologetic smile. Amarantha returned the look. 

 

“Yes you did.” 

 

“But anyway,” Amaryllis replied, clearing her throat and looking away, “Magic is easy. It's all about control. You just have to focus.” 

 

“I'm surprised you can focus with Cole always right behind you.” 

 

What once would have made her flush now hardly affected the younger elf. “Cole likes to help,” she replied with a tone of affection, “And he makes sure no one runs off while I'm explaining things to those who  _ want _ to listen.”

 

“Good man.” 

 

Conversation turned once more, and the evening was spent in relative ease as the four women laughed and teased and talked about all sorts of things. The sisters stole a glance at one another during one particularly scandalous tale from Josephine’s many diplomatic ventures, and despite the worry that ate at them, they smiled at one another, and Amaryllis scooted closer, to rest her head on her sister's shoulder. 

 

\-----------------

 

Seasons change, and before they had time to truly breathe in the refreshing warmth of summer, the wind began to grow cold, and the leaves began to turn to a soft yellow, signaling the coming of autumn, and the parting of ways. 

 

Varric and Cassandra were the first to leave, with Kirkwall needing their presence to continue healing. The parting was no less painful than the first time they left, and Amarantha clung to them a little tighter and a little longer than necessary. 

 

“Winter’s are mild in Kirkwall,” Varric told her, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, “And you've never been.” 

 

“Maybe a month away in Kirkwall will do us some good, then, when it gets too cold here.” 

 

“It will do us  _ all  _ good,” Cassandra agreed. 

 

Hawke was passed around and hugged and kissed and cooed over, and then as suddenly as they came, the Tethras-Pentaghast family were gone once more. 

 

Dorian and Bull remained a few more weeks while the adoption process was finalized. They spent their days with Violet, and before long they signed the documents required and Violet Pavus was officially theirs. 

 

Dorian wrote to Calpernia to give her the news and ask her to make some preparations for him before they returned. Her reply letter was written with large letters and an exaggerated slant that hinted at her rush and excitement in responding. She cursed them both for springing such news on her but then immediately followed that reprimand with excitement over the prospect of a new generation to carry on their work. She also sent another letter of gratitude to Amarantha, thanking her for the chance to find redemption. Amarantha penned her own response to send with Dorian. 

 

The time eventually came for Bull and Dorian to return to Tevinter as well. The Chargers had come to travel with them, and though their stay was incredibly brief, Amarantha and Amaryllis were pleased to see them again. 

 

It was hard letting go, but it was wonderful to know that they would see each other again. Friends clung to one another, tears and promises to reunite flowing freely, and Dorian declared that it would be a summer tradition to visit New Haven, so that he could see his friends and Violet could remember her roots. 

 

“Maybe keep her a little more grounded than her father,” he laughed through his tears. 

 

After the group left, Amarantha turned to Cullen and sagged against him. “It feels so empty now,” she murmured. Cullen rubbed her back affectionately. 

 

“I know,” he agreed, “But we’ll see them soon.”

 

She nodded, smiling as she felt him press a kiss to her head. Beside her, Amaryllis watched the horizon until Bull and Dorian were no longer visible. 

 

After a few minutes, Cullen released his wife and motioned over his shoulder. “I've a meeting,” he said with a slight roll of his eyes. “Allegra is in our room sleeping. Could you check on her?” 

 

“Of course,” Amarantha said, pressing a quick kiss to her husband's lips. “Come on, Sister.” 

 

The two walked to Amarantha and Cullen’s room, up the large steps as they spoke about the summer and how they couldn't wait to see everyone again. 

 

“It's only been a few minutes since they left and I already miss them.” 

 

“Me too,” Amarantha agreed, “But so much good happened this summer, I can hardly feel sor-”

 

She cut off when she saw a figure standing over the crib. She and Amaryllis instantly went in the defensive, stopping short when Solas turned to greet them. 

 

“Good afternoon,” he said as he stepped forward, holding Allegra in his arms. She was still asleep, but seeing her in his arms out her ever so slightly on edge. 

 

“Hello, Solas,” Amarantha said carefully, remembering her plan. She regarded her grandfather and relaxed, taking in his appearance. He looked younger, somehow, more like the descriptions of Fen’Harel she’d heard growing up. His hair had grown out on top, the sides still bare, the shoulder length hair twisted into thick braids. He looked almost feral. Rilly had expressed concern over the slight changes in recent months, but seeing him up close like this suddenly made those fears much more real. “You must forgive me. I wasn't expecting anyone to be here with her.” 

 

He smiled softly. “Understandable,” he agreed as he looked down at the little girl. “I would have come sooner, but I thought perhaps it might be best to wait until your friends left.”

 

She noticed the use of  _  your _ rather than  _ our _ , and her heart ached at the distance he was putting between them and himself.  _ You didn’t help matters _ she idly chastised herself, but pushed that thought aside. Solas chose to leave. She offered a small smile and stepped closer. “Probably for the best, I agree.” 

 

He looked at the little girl, smiled at her with unwavering love, then looked back up at his granddaughter. “Albizia. You gave her a name to be proud of,” he remarked, “Thank you.” 

 

Amarantha glanced at her sister, “I thought I told you to keep it a secret! It was going to be a surprise!” She did her best to say it playfully, but Amaryllis’ look of shock caused her concern. 

 

“I did.” 

 

She looked back at Solas, hiding her fear with amused confusion. “So curious to know you had to spy?” She teased, “You took the fun out of me telling you.” 

 

Solas smirked. “Yes well,” he said with an elegant shrug, “I am a patient man, but sometimes even I give into the occasional indulgence.” 

 

“You? I've never known you to indulge.” 

 

“On sweets, mostly,” Solas remarked idly, “It’s no secret I’ve a fondness for sweet things; particularly those sweetened with  _ honey _ .” 

 

She met his gaze, and knew. 

 

His smirk was feral, his gaze knowing, as he watched his granddaughter. Amaryllis blinked and glanced at her sister with worry as her own understanding. 

 

“You thought I didn’t know?” He asked, amused. “Of course I knew. You are clever, but not quite as cunning as you think. And of course I was going to go along with it. I  _ am _ pleased to be back in your life. And that you are willing to let me know my great-granddaughter; regardless of your motivation in doing so.” 

 

With that he pressed a kiss to the child’s head and handed her back to her mother. Amarantha took her stiffly, regarding Solas with confusion and anger. He continued. 

 

“You two are unwaveringly loyal to one another. A fact for which I am extremely proud. However that loyalty was what gave you away. I knew Amaryllis would not keep secrets from you. Not even her adamant agreement to keep things between us was enough. Of course she would tell you. Not that I minded, really. I was content to let you have your secrets. But after what you saw in the Fade...” he sighed, “I am not proud of many of my actions. But you will see in time that everything I do is necessary.” 

 

“ _ None _ of this is necessary!” Amarantha snapped, “You could have had a family who  _ loved _ you! Unconditionally! And you walk away,  _ continuously, _ so you can gain enough power to tear down the Veil! For what purpose?!”

 

“Ah, that is the question, isn't it,” Solas remarked. “What purpose indeed.” He took a step closer and Amarantha stepped back, clutching Allegra to her. Amaryllis stepped in front of her sister, magic at the ready. Solas frowned. “If you think I would harm any of you, then you do me a great disservice.”

 

“All you do is hurt us,” Amaryllis replied tearfully, “Grandmamae wouldn't want this!” 

 

“Your grandmother isn't here,” Solas replied with sorrow, “And I am doing all of this for her. For you. You will see in time.” He sighed and looked away. “I love you both so very much.” 

 

Neither spoke. At that, Solas returned his gaze to them and nodded. “Until we meet again.” He turned, intending to vanish, when Amarantha called out. 

 

“Solas!” 

 

He paused; turned. 

 

Matching eyes met. “I’m going to stop you.” 

 

His grin was full of pride. “I would be disappointed if you didn't.” 

 

And then he was gone. 

 

A long beat passed, and the sisters turned to one another, Amarantha letting out a shaking breath while Rilly moved her hands to cover her mouth. Amarantha stepped forward and wrapped one arm around her sister, whose arms then wound around her waist. Clutching her sister and daughter close, Amarantha closed her eyes and let out a sob. 

 

“What are we going to do?” 

 

Amarantha sighed. “We have to stop him.” 

 

“How,” she asked tearfully. “He knows.” 

 

“We still have what he doesn't have,” Amarantha replied softly, squeezing her sister and daughter tight. “We have each other.” 

 

Amaryllis clutched her sister close. They were silent for a long while.

 

As she held her sister, Amarantha recalled her grandmother’s words about her and her sister. Entwined like a chain of flowers, strong but soft, lovely but powerful. She thought of how the chain had grown, more links added in to further strengthen her bond. She had her sister, her husband, daughter, and friends. Each link connecting together, ever-growing, ever unbreakable, no matter the distance or the forces that tugged against the chains. 

 

Eventually Rilly whispered, “Are you going to tell Cullen?”

 

Amarantha nodded. “Of course. In a moment. I need to think.” 

 

Tugging on her sister, they moved in tandem to the balcony, where a cool breeze eased against her and alleviated some of the tension. 

 

Solas knew. But he wasn't going to stop her from pursuing him. He seemed to welcome the challenge, relish the rush it brought. Who would succeed? Who would fail? It was a game of chess she wasn't prepared to play, and she knew that the stakes were far higher than before. 

 

Taking a breath, she watched as a group of children listened to a story told by Cole, who was more and more human every day. He paused long enough to look up at the balcony, worry etched on his features. More human, but still in tune with the sister’s pain. He waited a moment, then went back to his story. Others bustled about, clueless to what had occurred above them. Mia led a few older children through the yard, talking happily to them. Chantry sisters bustled about in their duties. 

 

Life went on, no matter the turmoil that occurred in secret. 

 

Life would soon be interrupted again, when Solas began to act. He was closer now than ever before, she knew; why else reveal his hand? He was a wolf longing for a chase. 

 

She would give him the most intense chase of his long life. 

 

And she wouldn't be alone. She had an army of loved ones ready to stand up beside her, as proven time and time again. She'd gone from a girl in a Dalish clan to a leader of Thedas, but she knew that she would need both parts of her to stand up against her grandfather. To pull him back from the abyss on which he stood. 

 

To protect her family and the world. 

 

“Let's go find Cullen,” she said at length. 

 

Amaryllis nodded and released her hold, and turned away. Amarantha lingered for a moment longer, clinging to her daughter just as tightly as she so often clung to her sister. She pressed a kiss to the girl, who stirred sleepily, but did not wake. 

 

Amarantha glanced around the courtyard of New Haven, and at the peace she and her friends had brought. It was a fragile peace, threatened once again, but for now it lingered, and she took comfort in that thought. 

 

She took a deep breath to steady herself, then released it. Mixed with her sigh came a noise in the distance, solemn and soft, full of mystery and warning- 

 

It was the sound of a wolf’s howl. 

 

_ The End  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 2+ years of working on this story... we're at the end of the tale. 
> 
> So, I’m certain some of you are sitting there going, “Wait WHAT? What kind of ending is that?!” 
> 
> Well. Allow me to explain a bit of why the story ends the way it does. 
> 
> I started this story back in 2015. At that point, all we had was the game itself; no DLC. So, we all knew Solas was the Dread Wolf, but nothing else. And on a whim one day, I was scrolling through the Solas/Lavellan tag on Tumblr and I had an idea: what if Solas loved the Inquisitor, but it wasn’t romantic, but instead familiar? Thus, Amarantha was born. The granddaughter of the Dread Wolf, accidentally in the right place at the right time to take the mark that belonged to her grandfather. Her sister was brought along soon after, and their backstory with their grandmother being Solas’ True Love. 
> 
> Well, I wrote a good portion of the story, and much of what you’ve read was the same throughout: Dorian and Bull getting together, Varric and Cassandra getting together, Amarantha meeting Cullen’s family; spending time in Val Royeaux, Solas being “up to something.” and the story ending on a suspicious and bittersweet note where Amarantha knows her grandfather is up to no good, but we don’t know what it is he's planning. 
> 
> Then the fucking Trespasser content came out, and we learned Solas’ plan. And I spent ages tormenting myself on whether or not to include information from that DLC in this story. Ultimately it ended up impacting my writing, since I knew - to an extent- Solas’ plan. So I decided to add some of it in. Then as I was writing I thought it would make more sense for them to figure out more, learn more- since he flat out tells the Inquisitor everything in the DLC anyway. I didn’t have him reveal his entire plan here, simply because they know enough for him to be a genuine threat, and I don’t want to get in too deep because who knows if/when we’ll ever learn what happens with the actual canon story. I started this story to be mostly canon complaint (plot-wise regarding Corypheus) and then expanded off with characters relationships to suit my own desires. They originally weren’t going to know a thing about his plan- because I didn’t know - but, well. Things change. And I think the story is better for it. 
> 
> So yeah. That’s that. A Chain of Flowers is finished. Some things - to me- feel a little rushed at the end, but I didn’t want to keep dragging this thing out for forever, because it’s already seven chapters longer than it was supposed to be and this is like the 4th version of the story and quite frankly _I'm tired_. But, if you want any short little one-shots about certain characters or anything, let me know and I’ll try to fill in some gaps! But until then, we’re at a good place to leave Amarantha, Amaryllis, and company. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I hope this story brought you joy. I know it was a thrill and a challenge and a delight to write it and share it with all of you. So thank you for sticking with me. These characters are very close to my heart, and I have loved getting to play with them. 
> 
> Until my next story, I'll say farewell. Have a Happy and safe and warm New Year! 
> 
> Love, 
> 
> Cardinal Daughter


End file.
